


i had a marvelous time ruining everything

by flashlightinacave, magnetichearts



Series: in any version of reality, i'd find you and i'd choose you [2]
Category: Never Have I Ever (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Banter, Childhood Friends, Cuddling, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Frequent Use of Scientific Metaphors, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Jealousy, Kissing, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Pining, Romantic Tension, Sexual Tension, anyways we both kinda went ham on the tropes, hahaha like, is this a 38k fic that was not supposed to be 38k??, it's just another rom-com for these two, literally all of the tropes exist in this fic, never lmao, our specialty, since when have either of us had control??, you bet your ass it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25517737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashlightinacave/pseuds/flashlightinacave, https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetichearts/pseuds/magnetichearts
Summary: “That's not how Latin works, and you know it, David. You're making my ears bleed.”“Oh, like you do whenever you speak Mandarin?” she shoots back.Ben laughs. “We both know I’m better than you at it.”“You only got good at it to spite me.”“That’s what a good friend does, David.”She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “You’re the most annoying friend ever, Gross.”Ben flashes a grin at her. “I’m still your best friend, though."or; ben and devi grow up together, as academic rivals, best friends, and maybe, just maybe, something more(title from “the last great american dynasty” by taylor swift)
Relationships: Ben Gross/Devi Vishwakumar
Series: in any version of reality, i'd find you and i'd choose you [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010919
Comments: 18
Kudos: 140





	i had a marvelous time ruining everything

**Author's Note:**

> is this a childhood best friends to lovers fic that bhargavi pitched to leila, leila jumped on, and it turned from a quick fic into a whole ass fucking saga???
> 
> yes, yes it is. 
> 
> couple of disclaimers: we play super loose and fast with canon, like, we cannot stress how much we cherry pick canon. this loosely follows canon. as in, we chose specific parts of canon we liked and fit it into our fic, and ignored some others. 
> 
> because both of us are obsessed with this rarepair and are physically incapable of reining ourselves in whatsoever enjoy the numerous elpax kernels we have scattered around for you. play a drinking game with it! take a shot every time you see a science metaphor or pining! (please don't you'll die oh my god) 
> 
> you guys all know how nerdy we are so. leila's obsession with astronomy and bio was well established in seventh grade, bhargavi's obsession with history was cemented in seventh grade. 
> 
> also there's a lot of tropes. all of the tropes. we tried to fit as many in here as we physically could. oh and also we might have written this in a week. cause we're insane. that's it. 
> 
> this fic is a love letter to friendship. as such, we have to thank our own friends, maggie, cori, and rose, even though they didn't even know we were writing this, because we love and appreciate you guys so much. y'all are the best. 
> 
> enjoy this labor of love that we literally had so much fun writing, it's basically become our canon now
> 
> love you guys!!!!

It’s anticlimactic, when they become friends. 

Here is how it happens: on the first day of kindergarten, Devi shows up in a pink and purple dress, and Ben _hates_ her on sight. 

It’s not really his fault. He’s recently declared a crusade (he doesn’t know this word yet, but that’s the only apt way to describe his feelings) against all things pink and purple. He hates the color, hates the way his mom’s pink lipstick smudges against his cheek when she kisses him. He’s going into kindergarten! He can’t afford to look like a _baby._

See, Ben knows he’s smart. Has known it ever since nannies stared at him when he asked them questions about the books they would read to him. 

He likes Dr. Seuss, but he wouldn’t mind something a little harder, every now and again, really. 

But anyway, Devi’s wearing pink. 

He knows her name is Devi because of the tall man beside her. He has a bright smile, almost like the sun, and he crouches down to say bye to her. 

Her dad, Ben thinks, and then feels a little sad, cause his dad hadn’t been there to say goodbye to him, and his mom had just kissed him on the cheek as he left with the nanny. 

The man leaves, and class starts. 

Right away, Ben knows all of the answers to every single question his teacher asks, and a lot more, too. He’s pretty smart, and he thinks that everyone should know it. 

The thing is, Devi knows all the answers as well. And he doesn’t like it.

He can’t help it! She’s wearing pink! Pink! He hates pink. He doesn’t want to have to prove he’s smarter than her (which he is) just because she can answer a few questions in class. 

It all comes to a head at recess. 

Ben’s standing outside, wondering whether or not to ruin his nice pants by going on the swing set, when Devi marches up to him, crosses her arms and glares at him. Her braids are swinging behind her, and for a second, he wonders what they feel like, the dark, glossy hair super shiny. 

“You!” she says, stomping her foot. “Stop answering questions!” 

Ben stares at her. “Why?” 

Devi frowns. “Cause I wanna answer them!” 

“Well, I wanna answer them too, David!” 

He doesn’t _mean_ to call her that, he really, really doesn’t. It’s not cool to mispronounce someone’s name, he doesn’t think that it is. 

But he’s just lost three teeth and he’s got a bit of a lisp and he’s not really, totally, 100% certain that her name _is_ Devi, as he was far away from her when he heard her dad say that. 

So, he calls her David, and, well, it’s a mistake. 

She doesn’t even miss a beat, glaring at him, and suddenly, her hands are shooting out to catch him in the center of his chest, shoving him back. Ben’s so caught off guard he stumbles, and falls, right on the wet mulch. 

“Ow!” he yells, attracting the attention of the monitors around them. 

They predictably gasp and swarm around them, but then Devi bursts into tears. “He was being mean to me,” she sobs. 

“Hey!” Ben yells, struggling to get up. “She pushed me!”

“He said my name was weird,” she continues, fat tears running down her face.

As soon as the monitor turns around to raise an eyebrow at him, Devi’s face morphs into a furious glare. 

“She’s faking it!” he shouts, pointing at her. 

The monitor sighs. “Oh, dear god.” 

Ben and Devi are escorted into the building for the rest of recess, sitting in time-out for the rest of the time and trying to avoid shooting dark glares at one another.

It’s after lunch that things really start to pick up. Their teacher announces that the class will be doing a scavenger hunt to find school supplies hidden around her classroom, and passes out the sheets of paper, with their partner’s names on them. She also says that the people who find all items on the sheet first win a prize, and Ben knows he has to win, now. 

Ben glances down and tries not to scowl when he sees his name next to Devi’s. 

Devi glares at him too, running a hand down her braid. “I don’t wanna work with him,” she complains. 

“Now, Devi,” their teacher says gently. “We have to learn to work with all kinds of people, ok? Sometimes we don’t get to pick.” 

“He’s a dummy!” 

“Devi!” 

“You’re the dummy!” 

“Ben!” 

“I’m not the dummy, you are!” 

“Enough!”

Both Ben and Devi fall silent, crossing their arms and looking down at their desks. “I don’t want to hear _any more_ complaints from you two. You’ve got to learn to work together, ok?”

Devi’s eyes flicker over to him, and then back to her desk. “Ok,” she grumbles. 

Their teacher turns to him. “Ben?” 

He doesn’t wanna work with her, really, really doesn’t, cause she’s got like, a stupid pink dress on and she’s really annoying and got him in trouble, but he has no choice. “Fine.” 

Their teacher nods and leaves them be, and Ben turns back to the sheet. “I wanna win,” he says. “Don’t make me lose.” 

“I wanna win too.” 

“I don’t think you can be much help,” he sneers. 

Devi grabs the paper out of his hands, almost giving him a paper cut. “Shut up.” 

She reads the paper, pressing her lips together, and then abruptly stands up and digs behind the markers, pulling out the first thing they need, the ruler.

Ben gapes at her. “How—how did you figure that out so quickly?” 

Devi giggles. “Cause I’m so much smarter than you.” 

Ben peers over her shoulder to look at the paper in her hands. “Look, the scissors should be behind the trash can. Three steps from the door.” 

Devi turns to him. “Cool!” 

They work for the rest of the class, easily finding all of the items and secretly (or maybe not so secretly) relishing in picking them up, one after another. 

When they present all the school supplies to their teacher, and are presented with a bag of candy each for their efforts, he can’t help but smile and look over at her. 

She smiles back, eyes glittering in the fluorescent lighting of the room. It should make her look weird, he thinks, but instead she just looks really happy. 

Later, when they’re getting ready to go home and everyone is packing up their things, Ben walks up to Devi and taps her on the arm.

She turns to look at him. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier today,” he apologizes, looking down at the floor. “I didn’t mean to call you David. My teeth are just gone.” 

Devi frowns. “I probably shouldn’t have pushed you either. Sorry.” 

He grins. “It’s ok. We won anyway.” 

“Cause of me.”

“No, cause of me!”

Devi laughs. “I’m smarter than you, Ben. You know it.” 

“You’re not.” 

She smiles at him, gaze flicking to the floor, suddenly shy. “I—uh—I liked working with you today.” 

Ben’s own eyes drop to the floor. “You too.” 

He stares at her shoes, which are pink as well, that dreaded color. 

“Do you wanna sit with me at lunch tomorrow?” he blurts out. He doesn’t know _where_ it came from, just that Devi is really fun to talk to and really funny sometimes and she’s the only other person who even knows a little bit of the stuff he does. He likes talking to her. 

She looks surprised, and then nods. “Uh, if you want me to.” 

Ben nods. “I do.” 

Devi then smiles, bright and wide, a pink blush filling her cheeks, and Ben decides that maybe pink isn’t the _worst_ color in the entire world, anymore.

* * *

“David, you’re wrong!”

“How am I wrong?”

“Oatmeal raisin is better!” Ben whines.

They’re sitting at a table in the cafeteria eating lunch, squabbling playfully.

“Oatmeal raisin is just chocolate chip trying to be healthy, but just being disgusting,” Devi says, sticking out her tongue.

“But they are healthy!” Ben protests, stamping his foot on the floor.

“How?” Devi asks, eyes wide.

“They contain anti—antioxtants.”

Devi frowns. “What are those?”

“I dunno, I just heard my mom say that word once. She mentioned it when she was putting this weird green goop on her face.”

Devi screws up her nose in disgust. “Ew!”

“But they are healthy,” Ben says. He pauses and Devi can spot uncertainty in his eyes. “I think?”

Devi grins wolfishly at him. “Well, then you wouldn’t mind if I did this!”

She snatches Ben’s dessert—a chocolate chip cookie—right out of his lunchbox, flashing him a grin that she knows lets him see her few missing teeth.

“Hey!” he exclaims, trying to grab the cookie back from her, but she’s faster than him. 

She mockingly sticks out her tongue. “You snooze, you lose,” she declares, unwrapping the cookie, discarding the plastic wrap in a heap. She takes a bite, savoring the way the chocolate melts on her tongue. She makes sure to look at Ben the entire time she’s eating, so he knows she’s teasing him.

When she’s finally done eating his dessert, she finally opens up her lunch bag to see what her mom packed. 

She spots the juice box first and pulls it out feeling decidedly thirsty.

“Ugh,” she groans, wrinkling her nose, “I hate apple juice.”

Ben seems to notice because he’s sliding over his unopened juice box seconds later. She smiles, feeling her cheeks warm when she sees he’s given her pink lemonade, her favorite.

Her voice comes out embarrassingly quiet. “You remembered.”

It shouldn’t be this surprising, she and Ben have been eating lunch together since they were five and now they’re seven and a half, that’s two and a half whole years. That’s a good chunk of her life!

Ben nervously rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, of course, you’re my friend.”

Devi smiles at him bright and clear, before pulling him in for a hug. She feels Ben stiffen against her—they don’t hug all that often—before he’s finally hugging her back.

She pulls back after a brief moment and flashes another toothy grin at him.

She’s always liked Ben, he has the coolest toys at this house, he’s the only one who can keep up with her in class, and he’s willing to bicker with her about anything.

“You’re not just my friend.” She giggles gleefully. “You’re my best friend!”

Ben’s eyes widen. “Really?” he asks, slowly. 

Devi nods. “Of course. Besides Eleanor and Fab, duh.” 

Pink spots appear on Ben’s cheeks. “I’ve never been someone’s best friend before.” 

She smiles. “Well, now you’re mine! And,” she says, leaning in. “You know what this means?” 

“What?” 

“Now, you gotta give me all of your desserts! Cause that’s what best friends do!” 

Ben pouts. “Really?” 

She nods seriously. “Really.” 

He sighs. “Ok. But only cause you’re also _my_ best friend.” 

Devi’s face feels like, super warm all of a sudden, and she presses her hands to her cheeks, looking down at her food. “Thanks, Ben.” 

He smiles back at her, toothy and wide. “Sure, Devi.” 

* * *

Ben walks into school on his tenth birthday feeling like he wants to go right back home and cry. 

He’s not—not a baby, it’s just that he really, really thought his mom and dad would be able to stay, this year. 

It’s double digits! He’s turning ten years old! Isn’t that like, _super important?_

The second he thinks it, though, he feels bad. His parents are busy, he knows that. Plus, they always go out to eat like, a week after anyway. It’s not a big deal. 

Still, he can’t help but feel a little sad as he sits down next to Devi at their picnic table. 

He looks over at her and wrinkles his nose. “Why do you look like that?” 

Devi groans, burying her face in her hands. “Not you too!” 

Ben laughs. “Sorry, David, but your hair does look weird. I can’t like, not point it out.” 

Devi smacks him on the arm and reaches over—predictably—to steal his brownie from his lunch box. Having been used to it, at this point, Ben lets her take it and pulls out his sandwich. 

“My mom made me cut it like this,” she grumbles. 

Her hair is shorn off at her shoulders, and Ben pokes it with his finger. “Why is it frizzy?” 

“Ugh, Ben!” she complains, batting his hand away. “Why are you like this?” 

“What, awesome?” 

“Annoying,” she deadpans. 

“You’re really going to be mean to me on my birthday?” 

“I’m your best friend, which means I’m like, ordered to be mean to you all the time so you don’t get super annoying.” 

“I thought I already was annoying,” Ben laughs. 

Devi smacks him again. “I said, super annoying. You’re not there yet. But close, so don’t push your luck.” 

He smiles. “Ok, ok, I won’t, sorry.” 

Eleanor and Fabiola sit down across from them just then, each carrying their lunch boxes. “Happy birthday, Ben,” Eleanor chirps. She claps her hands together. “I can’t wait to sing to you later today in class!” 

“Please don’t,” he groans. “That’s so embarrassing.” 

“So, Ben,” Fabiola asks. “What are you and your parents gonna do tonight?” 

He shrugs, taking a bite of his food. “Nothing. They’re not here, Mom’s on a retreat in Africa and Dad’s in Lisa Vander-something’s house trying to help her with some deal. So it’s just me and Patty, tonight.” 

Devi stops suddenly. “Your parents aren’t home?” she asks, quietly. 

Ben nods. “Yeah, they’re not. It’s not a big deal, though. They weren’t here for my last two birthdays either.” 

Devi’s eyes open wide. “W—what?” she gasps. “They weren’t here for your last two birthdays?” 

Something about the way Devi says it, like it’s—wrong, makes Ben feel bad. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Yeah. But it’s not a big deal. They’re busy. And we always go out after.” 

“But—but,” Devi protests. “It’s your birthday _today!_ They’re not gonna do anything today? You don’t even wanna have a party, or something?”

Ben shakes his head. “I can’t do that by _myself,_ Devi,” he points out. “Duh. Like, I need adults for that.” 

Devi crosses her arms. “It’s dumb you don’t even get a party.” 

He scowls. “Devi, I’m telling you I don’t care. Just leave it.” 

She does, surprisingly, and pokes at her lunch. He’s in a little bit of a bad mood for the rest of the day, unexpectedly hurt at Devi’s words. 

He knows it’s not—usual, for his parents to not spend his birthday with him, but it’s how it has always been. It’s usual, for him. 

He doesn’t notice it, at first. Devi does a good job at hiding it, for the rest of the week, although looking back on it, her behavior is glaringly obvious. Still, though, he doesn’t notice anything, lost in his own thoughts. 

That Saturday, Ben’s bouncing up and down, excited for his playdate with Devi. Saturdays with her are the best—they always get into crazy science experiments that make her mom a little mad, but make her dad laugh. He loves spending time with her. She’s his best friend for a _reason, duh._

“Ok, ok,” Devi says, when they finally pull up in front of her house. “I got something super cool to show you.” 

She unbuckles her seatbelt and hops out of the car, bouncing up and down on her feet. “Come _on,_ Ben,” she groans. “Stop taking _forever,_ god, why are you so _slow?”_

Ben glares at her as he hops out of the car. “Oh my god, Devi, you’re rushing me. Slow down, seriously.” 

Devi stomps her foot and crosses her arms, letting Ben know he’s about to be witness to a famous temper tantrum of hers. 

“Ok, ok,” he rushes, standing next to her. “I’m here.” 

She smiles. “Close your eyes.” 

Ben stares at her. “Why?” 

Mohan comes around and puts his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “I promise, Ben, you’re going to want to close your eyes. Devi’s got something _really_ cool to show you.” 

Ben frowns, but Mohan has never lied to him, and he trusts Devi’s dad. “Ok.” 

He closes his eyes and lets Mohan guide him into the house, Devi slapping her hands over his eyes when she catches him peeking. 

“Ben!” she complains. 

“What’s going on, David?” 

“Ben! Be patient, oh my gosh!” 

He frowns. “Ok,” Devi says, taking her hands off his eyes. “Look!” 

Ben opens his eyes, and everyone shouts, “Surprise!” 

His mouth drops open. “What!” 

“Happy birthday, Ben!” Devi says, giggling. 

He looks around the room with wide eyes, taking in the streamers and balloons around the room. “You—you did this?” he gasps, turning to Devi. 

She nods. “Well, you deserved to have at least _one_ birthday party.” 

“So you threw me a surprise party?” 

She nods. “Yeah! I even invited everyone from school and all of our friends!” 

He can’t help it. No one—no one—has ever done anything like this for him before. It makes a warm feeling fill his chest—like, like a volcano exploding, or something, hot lava spreading within him. He can’t believe Devi did this for him. 

Ben reaches over and pulls her into a hug. “Thank you.” 

Devi hugs him back tightly. She smells like a flower, but he doesn’t know the name. He likes hugging Devi. She’s soft and smells really good, and even though her hair is frizzy it’s still super soft. 

He thinks he should probably hug her more. 

“You’re the best friend ever,” he declares. 

It’s something he knows with startling certainty, something he knows in his stomach and his heart. Devi is his best friend in the world. He can’t imagine anyone else coming even close. 

* * *

She’s 13 years old and they’re under the endless starry sky the first time Ben kisses her.

Or maybe she kisses him? Or they kiss each other?

Whatever, it’s irrelevant. The whole thing, if Devi’s being honest, is kind of meaningless.

She’s sitting on the edge of Ben’s pool, her feet dangling in the water, as he sits beside her. It’s a common tradition for them, sitting under the stars, chatting about anything and everything.

“I’ve always been fascinated by the night sky,” Devi admits, head tilted back so she’s facing the stars. “It’s boundless and infinite.”

“Not infinite,” Ben corrects, “Infinitely expanding.”

Devi turns her eyes away from the stars and back to Ben. “What?”

Ben scoffs. “Come on, David, don’t tell me I have to explain dark matter and dark energy to you.”

“You don’t, I know just as much as about the subject as you do,” Devi says, “But I know you, so you’re gonna do it anyway, right?”

Because that’s the thing about being best friends—about she and Ben being practically attached by the hip for the past eight years—she knows him better than anyone, including knowing his more annoying, but also somewhat charming habits.

He always lets her do the same thing to him, go on and on about her niche interests, while he is her captive audience. 

That’s the reason their friendship works so well, they encourage each other’s passions and interests. They push each other to be the best versions of themselves every day.

(No one challenges and pushes her quite like Ben does. When she is with him, impossible things become possible, whole new worlds materializing at her fingertips.) 

He flashes a genuine grin at her. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“So,” Devi starts, tilting her head back up the night sky, pleased that minimal light pollution in Ben’s backyard allows her to identify various constellations and see the stars that dot the sky. “Tell me about it.”

She’s not facing Ben right now, but she imagines at her invitation for him to speak, his eyes light up the way they always do when he’s excitedly passionate, turning from a deep ocean blue to a blazing blue flame.

She can hear the smile in his voice as he speaks. “It’s fascinating because there’s so much “normal” matter in our universe, asteroids, moons, planets, stars, and galaxies and yet all of that only makes up—”

Devi cuts him off knowing exactly what he’s going to say. “5% of the universe’s composition, yeah, I know, Ben.”

She hears him huff a laugh and is tempted to turn back to face him, but instead continues to be almost hypnotized by the night sky above.

She shoves him playfully. “Tell me about the other 95%, that’s the interesting part, right?”

“I will if you quit interrupting me,” Ben snipes back, but she can tell by his voice that he’s still smiling.

“Hmm,” Devi sticks out her bottom lip. “Fine.”

“The other 95% consists of dark matter and dark energy.”

“Naturally,” Devi responds with a snort and a playful eye roll.

“David, you just agreed not to interrupt me.”

Devi turns back to face Ben and finds he looks kind of annoyed. Fine, she’ll let him have this. She raises her hands defensively. “Yeah, sorry,” she says, then nods for him to continue.

“Dark matter is said to make up 27% and dark energy makes up the remaining 68%. But we can’t see or detect either dark matter or dark energy, so a question posed by astrophysicists is how do we know that they’re present at all?”

Devi knows Ben’s question is rhetorical, that he’s not expecting her to answer, but she can’t help herself, she knows a fair bit about this subject too. “For dark matter, it has to do with the rotation curve of the Milky Way.” She peers up at him through her eyelashes. “Right?”

“Right,” Ben agrees. He doesn’t sound annoyed, but rather pleased by her contribution. “Because the rotation curve of the Milky Way doesn’t fall off as expected, this implies that there’s more undetectable mass present. Or at least, undetectable in a visual sense, hence,” he clicks his tongue. “The name dark matter.”

“And dark energy, the remaining 68%, is the property of space that allows the universe to continuously expand,” Devi adds, smiling a little deviously at Ben.

“I was going to say that,” he pouts, crossing his arms.

Devi feels her smile only grow. “Well, you snooze, you lose, Gross. Besides, we both know I’m the smarter one of the two of us.” 

“Considering I beat you on our most recent math test, I think you may want to reevaluate that statement, David.”

Devi tilts her head back and crows a laugh. She turns back to Ben, unable to keep the big stupid grin she often wears in his presence off her face. “One day you’ll admit that I’m smarter than you, mark my words, Gross.”

“Not before you admit it, David.”

She wacks Ben’s chest with the back of her palm before turning back to the stars.

The silence that passes between them is peaceful, serene. Devi’s never been one for the quiet, but she finds she always likes quiet moments with Ben. There’s something oddly calming about sitting here—mapping the night sky with her eyes—with him. 

She is, however, a talkative person by nature and feels forced to eventually break the silence. “You know what I heard?” Devi asks, turning back to face Ben.

Ben arches an eyebrow. “What?”

“Emily Fischer has a boyfriend.”

Ben nods attentively before he says, “Yeah, I heard about that too.”

“Isn’t it a little weird?” Devi asks suddenly, clasping her hands in her lap. “That, you know, a bunch of the kids we’ve known since kindergarten are dating?”

“We’re 13, David, it’s not that weird.”

Devi bites her lip. “I mean, I think it’s a little weird since I’ve never—” she waves her hands around frantically, “—you know.”

“What?”

She finds she can’t even look at Ben anymore, instead choosing to focus on the ground. “N—nothing,” she stammers.

Ben wacks her arm. “What, David?”

(She's so grateful she’s not looking him in the eyes, because she’s never been able to hide her feelings from him when she does.)

Devi blows out a deep breath, still unable to turn her eyes up to face him, feeling blush begin to climb up her cheeks. “I’ve never kissed anyone,” she admits.

There’s a moment of awkward terrible silence, and Devi wonders why she thought broaching this conversation with Ben was a good idea, before he says, “Me neither.”

Devi looks back up at him and finds his expression is completely earnest. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

A beat passes and Devi doesn’t know _how_ the suggestion comes to her head or _why_ she chooses to blurt it out, but she does. 

“Maybe we should kiss each other.”

She watches Ben’s eyes widen with confusion and his mouth falls agape like a fish. “W—what…?” 

Devi knows she’s rambling, but the words tumble out anyway. “Just for practice! I mean, like, it wouldn’t be that weird, we’re best friends and it would be good to know how to do it, so we both know what we’re doing when the real thing happens with whomever it happens with—”

Devi clamps a hand over her stupid, stupid mouth and contemplates for a brief second jumping into Ben’s pool to drown herself. She turns her gaze back to the ground again as her mind begins to spiral and her breathing begins to quicken. What a horrendously dumb thing to say. She’s just thrown eight years of friendship down the drain by making the most ridiculous suggestion of all time! What an idiot Devi is, what a goddamn idiot! How could she think that was a good—?

Ben’s voice tears her out of her thoughts. “Uh, okay, yeah.”

Devi finally, finally looks back up at him. “Really?”

He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, your suggestion doesn’t sound _that_ illogical.”

Devi nods her head and tries to slow her breathing back to its normal rate. “Right.”

It hits her then that she’s about to have her first kiss. 

Not just that, she’s about to have her first kiss with _Ben._

She clears her throat. “Okay, so uh…” she looks up at him expectantly. “How do we do this?”

“I—uh—I don’t know.”

Devi finds Ben is looking at her just as earnestly as earlier. He’s turned so he’s facing her more fully. “Well, I know we have to lean in.”

Ben jerkily nods. “Right, right.”

They both lean in at the same time and their noses bump—Devi can feel his breath ghosting her face—before he presses his lips to hers. 

His lips are soft, is the first thing Devi realizes, but it’s also awkward—terribly awkward. She keeps her hands limp at her sides, not knowing if she should place them on his face or in his hair or around his neck. Ben doesn’t seem to know what he’s doing either, considering she doesn’t feel his arms come around her. She moves her lips against his, a little tentatively, a little hesitantly, and the whole thing is just—weird, so Devi finds herself quickly breaking the kiss and laughing wryly. 

Well, that was something, alright.

She blinks a few times to steady herself and finds Ben is looking at her with a weird striking intensity. His eyes are vividly bright blue and Devi wonders if they’ve always been that color or if it’s just a trick of the lighting by the pool. Her heart begins to drum loudly and confusingly in her chest as she realizes she kind of wants to angle her head properly, so their lips actually fit against one another, and kiss him again.

(You can’t practice something only once if you really want to get good at it.)

Instead, she coughs and places a more acceptable distance between them. The air between them is weirdly stiff.

“Alright, that was decent practice!” Devi claps her hands together, desperate to diffuse the tension between them.

Ben blinks at her. “I—uh, thanks?”

“Yeah, uh, thanks, Ben.” She shoots up to her feet. “I—I’ll see you at school on Monday, okay?”

“Right, yeah, Monday,” Ben says, nodding stiffly. “See you.”

Devi awkwardly pats his shoulder, speedwalks out of his backyard, and makes her way back home, trying desperately to ignore the two main thoughts that begin to swirl on loop through her head. 

She just kissed her best friend and she kinda wants to do it again.

* * *

Eleanor confronts him after math class on the second to last day of school. 

She flops into the seat across from him at study hall, crossing her legs over one another. “Benjamin,” she says, primly lacing her hands in front of her, “care to tell me why you’ve been gawking at my best friend when she’s not—and sometimes when she is—looking at you?” 

Ben drops his pencil in shock. “S—sorry?” he stammers out. “What are you talking about?” 

“Oh, don’t play dumb, Ben,” Fabiola comments, sliding in next to Eleanor, and now they’re _both_ regarding him with suspicion. “That only works with Devi.” 

He gapes at them. “What—what are you even _talking_ about?” 

“We are talking about the dreamy, kinda dumb look at crosses your face whenever you look at her, Ben,” Eleanor snorts. “Please. I consider myself to be an expert in romance, whether that be in the field of rom-coms or tragedy, and you’ve got the classic smitten look on your face.” 

Fabiola narrows her eyes, tilting her head. “This pattern of behavior first presented itself a week ago and has been recurring ever since. Did you hurt her?” 

“What?” he yelps. “No!” 

The thing is, he and Fabiola and Eleanor are all friends. He considers them his best friends—Devi is his _best_ friend, but he’s close with them as well—and they hang out plenty without her. He’d been there when Eleanor’s mother had left—seriously, he’s going to have some words with that woman if she ever returns—and he’s been there through Fabiola’s mother constantly pushing unwanted expectations on her. So, he cares about them. 

He just doesn’t care much for the way they’re looking at him right now. 

“Ben,” Eleanor says. “Spit it out. You know you’re going to tell us eventually.” 

He runs a hand through his hair, and sighs. “Devi and I kissed.” 

Fabiola blinks, and then smirks. “I know.” 

Eleanor squeals, jumping up and down in her seat, clapping her hands. “Oh my god!” Then, she stiffens, turning to Fabiola. “Wait, you _knew?_ And you didn’t tell me?” 

Fabiola shrugs. “Devi told me a few days ago. She knew I would be chill about it.” 

Eleanor’s mouth drops open in shock. “And I wouldn’t?” 

“You literally just proved her right,” Fabiola deadpans. 

Eleanor scowls, but waves her hand, clearly dismissing it. “Fine, fine, not the point.” She turns back to Ben, eyes glimmering with intrigue. “So, are you two gonna date now?” 

Ben nearly keels over in shock. “What? No! I don’t like her?” 

Fabiola scowls. “Devi’s great. What’s not to like about her?”

“No—nothing!” he splutters out, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s awesome!”

“So then why won’t you date her?” Eleanor pushes. 

“I don’t like her like _that.”_

Eleanor and Fabiola exchange a weighty look, and then turn back to him, and say, in unison, “Bullshit.” 

“It’s true!” he protests. “I don’t!” 

“You’ve been staring at her nearly constantly for the past week, why then?” Eleanor questions. 

(Because she kissed him and now all he can think about is how her lips had felt against his—slightly chapped, but warm, making him feel hot from the inside out. Every time he looks at her, at her mouth, every time he hears her speak or even fucking thinks about her, butterflies explode in his stomach—but that’s just because he’s reliving his first kiss with her, nothing else.) 

“I haven’t been staring at her,” he grumbles.

Eleanor leans forward and takes his hand. “You know, you can tell us if you like her,” she says, kindly. “We won’t say anything.” 

Fabiola snorts, crossing her arms. “She promises that. I don’t.” 

“Fab,” El admonishes, not even turning to face her. 

Fabiola sighs, a long-suffering, drawn out sigh. “Ok, fine. I won’t say anything.” 

“You just—you get this look on your face when you see her, Ben,” Eleanor starts. “Like you’re the happiest when she’s around. It’s impossible to really describe, but that’s what it is.” 

Ben looks down at his paper, previously easy quadratic functions swimming in front of his eyes. “Fuck,” he breathes, rubbing both of his hands over his face. “Do I like Devi?” 

Fabiola and Eleanor shoot him identical sympathetic looks. “I think you know the answer to that already.” 

He leans back in his chair, fingers tapping at his desk. 

(He thinks about the way she smiles, like the sun peeking out from behind a cloud, the way her laugh makes him feel like he’s watching flowers bloom.)

Yeah, he does. 

* * *

Devi misses Ben.

He’s been on vacation for the past three weeks with his family—family in loose terms, Devi knows all too well that Ben’s parents suck and likely haven’t spent much time with him—in Italy.

And it fucking sucks.

She usually spends the entire summer with him—Eleanor has her annual summer long musical theater program and Fabiola has robotics camp—so his absence means she hasn’t seen any of her friends and she hates it.

Summers with Ben usually mean bickering and teasing and endless amounts of soft serve ice cream that they eat while lounging in his backyard and do-it-yourself science experiments that go awry, but with Ben galavanting around Italy, none of that is possible.

It’s weird not being able to waltz into his house and flop down on his ridiculously, unfairly comfortable couch and be greeted by his familiar smirk. 

It’s weird answering the door on hot summer afternoons to someone other than him. In fact, the doorbell isn’t ringing much at all.

She misses the way he’s always trying (but failing) to prove that he’s smarter than her. Misses the way his eyes light up when they tease each other or compete. Misses the crazy antics they get up to much to her mother’s disapproval. Misses inviting him over for family dinner and his complete lack of spice tolerance. 

She thinks that Ben’s taste buds should have adapted to tolerate her dad’s fantastic dosas, but she’s always proven wrong. It’s one of the few things she’s amused—even happy—to be proven wrong about.

His eyes, she thinks, are what she misses the most, but then she thinks it might be his smile, or his hand in hers, and she can’t decide. It’s everything about him that she misses, everything about Ben. 

She misses him because he’s her best friend. Plus, it’s been nearly a month, that’s a long time.

(There's no other reason she misses Ben so much, like—like a vital limb has been ripped away from her. She kissed him once, last year, and the only way to describe it, frankly, was weird. And she only felt the butterflies in her stomach for a week after that whenever she saw him because of the kiss. Not because of _him._ It's not like she has anything else to compare it to. He's still the only boy she's ever kissed.)

And so she misses him.

She texts him regularly, and they often trade memes and countless inside jokes that paradoxically make her miss him both less and more all at once.

She pulls out her phone and opens her messages app to shoot him a text.

 **Devi:** How’s Italy?

He responds to her message almost instantly.

 **Ben:** Pretty decent, we went to an interesting museum.

It’s pathetic, but Devi feels her heart twinge at the message, maybe Ben doesn’t miss her as much as she misses him, if he likes Italy so much. She really misses him and she hates it.

(It’s weird, being apart from him like this. Worse than the fact that he’s not here, she thinks, is the knowledge that he isn’t. The way she knows if she went to his house she wouldn’t find him. That if she needed him, she couldn’t run to him and find him out back, by his pool, staring up at the stars.)

She glances back down at her phone and notices he’s sent another two texts.

 **Ben:** ACTUALLY WAIT

 **Ben:** I need to send you something.

Devi waits for a couple of minutes, staring at her phone.

 **Devi:** I’m not seeing anything, Gross

 **Ben:** Be patient, David, the picture is still sending.

The picture finally comes through and it’s some weird statue that Devi’s never seen before. She wonders why Ben felt the need to send it to her.

 **Ben:** I mean, what the hell is that? What was the artist thinking?

 **Devi:** Wtf??

 **Ben:** Can’t come up with a more creative response, David?

She imagines him smirking as he sent that text and rolls her eyes.

 **Devi:** What is that and why did you send it?

 **Ben:** I’m not quite sure what it is, but I laughed when I saw it and I thought it might make you laugh too.

Devi feels warmth bloom high in her cheeks, but desperately tries to ignore it as she types out another text.

 **Devi:** So considerate

 **Ben:** Thank you, I do try.

Devi snorts, but her smile is lit up by the glow of her phone screen.

 **Devi:** Hmm… you could probably do better tho

 **Ben:** How exactly?

 **Devi:** It’s not my job to tell you how to impress a girl, Gross

 **Devi:** That’s on you to figure out

 **Ben:** Who said I was trying to impress you?

 **Devi:** You did, several texts ago

 **Ben:** You’re twisting my words.

 **Devi:** Am not

 **Ben:** Are too.

She huffs a laugh, because only Ben can make her laugh this much an entire ocean away. She finally asks him the question that’s been nagging at her for a while now.

 **Devi:** How many days till you’re back?

 **Ben:** Uh, a week I think?

 **Devi:** I’m surprised you can still count, Gross.

He sends her a few eye roll emojis.

She hovers her thumb over her phone before she sends him another text. She types it out once, impulsively, and then erases the text before she's even finished hitting the last key. Then, she tries again, nausea in her stomach almost overwhelming, before she erases it again. 

Fuck this. Ben's her best friend. She can be honest with him. She _needs_ to be honest with him. 

So, she decides to send the text, her hands shaking the whole time.

 **Devi:** I miss you 

Almost immediately, the three little dots indicating his reply pop up, and she panics. 

What the _fuck_ has she just done? Has she jeopardized their friendship? What the fuck, oh god, oh god, oh— 

Her phone buzzes with a text, it takes her several attempts to input her passcode from how sweaty her fingers are, and she picks it up carefully, hardly daring to see what's on the screen. 

**Ben:** I miss you too, David.

Devi’s face explodes with a massive blush, and she’s unable to temper down both the insanely dopey smile crossing her face and the warmth blooming in her chest. She can’t _wait_ to see him again. 

The next week somehow passes more slowly and quickly all at once then the previous three and Devi soon finds herself arm in arm with both Eleanor and Fabiola, and giddy with nervous excitement about seeing Ben again.

She’s picked out a sundress adorned with flowers that she knows is flattering, has brushed her hair out and forgone makeup since they’ll be swimming, and she smoothes her hands down her dress, making sure it falls properly. 

(For the sake of taking social media worthy photos, not for impressing Ben.)

She practically shakes with excitement as she reaches up to ring Ben’s doorbell, bouncing on her heels.

The few seconds before he answers the door seem to stretch out for an eternity as Devi nervously twists her hands together.

When Ben finally swings the door open to answer her, he catches her completely off guard.

He’s got a towel wrapped around his shoulders, his hair is dripping wet, and he’s shirtless.

 _Holy shit_ , he’s not wearing a shirt.

As if the action is involuntary, Devi’s mouth drops agape and all she can bring herself to do is stare. She traces the lines of his chest with her eyes, making a mental map of his abs. _And holy shit when did he get more abs?_

It shouldn’t be that weird, they’ve been best friends for nine years now, she’s seen Ben without his shirt before, she’s gone swimming with him in his pool countless times, but this—this is strangely different. 

Her heart is pounding in her chest, like it’s running a marathon, and she swallows as she watches a drop of water trail down his neck. She should really, _really_ pull her eyes away, but she physically _can’t._ She desperately wants to wrap her hands around the ends of the towel, hanging around his neck, and pull him closer. 

(For what, though?)

Devi feels the weird, irrational impulse to press her hand against his chest, see if his heart is currently racing as fast as her own. She even raises her palm up, spreading out her fingers and reaching forward, only stopping at the sound of Ben’s voice.

“Like, what you see, David?”

She snaps her head up and meets his sly, impossibly smug smirk and feels her face burn in humiliation. She still can’t bring herself to speak and is both horrified and relieved when Ben speaks first. “It’s okay, I always knew I was the perfect specimen.”

Devi’s mouth is dry and when she can finally speak again the words come out jumbled. “Your shirt!” she blurts out. She clears her throat. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

Ben’s smirk only grows upon recognizing how flustered she is. “Who wears a shirt while swimming?”

“Swimming—you—you were swimming?” Christ, this is getting more humiliating by the second.

Ben stretches his arms above his head and Devi now finds herself unable to stop staring at the way the muscles in his arms easily flex. Since when the fuck did Ben get biceps? And forearms? He’s only been gone a month! 

“Yeah, I wanted to get a few laps in before the three of you came over,” he says, finally addressing Eleanor and Fabiola as well.

He then ushers them into his house, shutting the door behind them before turning to walk off in the other direction, presumably towards his backyard. He makes a beckoning motion with his hand before he walks away.

Devi feels a sharp pain in her side and turns to meet the knowing smirk of Eleanor. “Devi,” she sing-songs, “you’re drooling.”

“I—I’m not drooling!”

She then turns to see Fabiola is smirking just as much. She says the words plainly. “You were ogling Ben’s bare chest.”

Devi balls her hands into fists. “I was not!”

“Then what was _that_?” Eleanor asks, quirking an eyebrow, her expression no less smug.

“What was what?” Devi deflects, crossing her arms over her chest.

“ _That_ over by the door,” Fabiola says.

“You’ve seen him without a shirt before, Devi,” Eleanor adds.

“He—he just surprised me is all.” Devi rubs the back of her neck. “Caught me off guard.”

Eleanor taps her chin and regards Devi with suspicion. “Hmm.”

“You know neither of us believe you, right?” Fabiola says, tilting her head to the side.

“Drop it,” Devi growls.

“Alright, alright,” Eleanor says, raising her hands in surrender.

The three of them make their way into the backyard and Devi spots Ben—still shirtless, _is he trying to kill her?_ —standing by his pool clearly waiting for them.

He cocks his head. “What took you three so long?”

“Oh, Devi had something she needed to discuss with us,” Fabiola answers, tossing a wink in Devi’s direction.

Devi scowls, goddamn it, she kind of hates her friends today.

“Oh,” he says, completely unfazed. “Cool. Come on, the water’s great.” 

He turns and jumps into the pool, and Devi’s grateful that Eleanor and Fabiola are dropping their stuff off by the lounge chair, because she doesn’t think she can take her eyes off of Ben. He surfaces, running a hand through his wet hair, and then turns. 

Devi feels her cheeks burn as his eyes, bluer than the water of the pool, lock with hers. Instead of flushing, though, Ben just grins rakishly at her, shooting her a wink. “Don’t just stand there, David. Come on in.” 

“O—ok,” Devi says, but her voice sounds strangled even to her own ears, what the _fuck._

Devi sets down her bag and slips off her sandals, careful not to look at Ben the whole time. She pulls her hair back, tossing it up into a bun, and pulls her sundress off, dropping it into a pile on a lounge chair before tentatively dipping her toe into the pool.

“Weakling!” Ben calls, through cupped hands. 

Devi glares at him. “Shut up, Ben, it’s cold!” 

He smirks. “It’s really not, David.” 

She scowls at him and sits down at the edge of the pool, dangling her feet in the water. “You’re ridiculous.” 

He moves closer to her, eyes tracing over her. “Is that really what you’d want to call me, right now?” 

Devi’s sure her entire body is on fire, now, with how warm she feels all over. She’s wearing a simple one piece, with cutouts, because her mother would _never_ let her wear a bikini to a guy’s house, even if that guy was Ben, but the way he’s looking at her makes her feel like she’s about to combust. 

“Annoying, obsessive, bothersome, you pick, Gross,” she quips. 

Ben moves even closer to her treading water, and his eyes glint with mirth. “Really? You can’t think of _any_ other adjectives?” 

_Hot,_ her mind supplies. Because he is. It’s not something she would have thought about in concordance with Ben, before, but she’s never really let herself think about him like this before. _Definitely hot._

“Idiotic,” she smirks.

Ben’s eyes gleam, and Devi realizes she’s made a mistake in a split second. “That’s not very nice,” he breathes, before he’s reaching out and wrapping his hands around her waist, tugging her into the pool.

Devi shrieks as she topples into the cool water, surfacing as soon as she can. “You’re such a dick, Ben!” 

He laughs, throwing his head back. “Oh, worth it to see the look on your face right now.” 

She growls. “That’s it!” She lungs for him and tries to dunk him, shoving at his shoulders—fuck, how do even _these_ have muscles—to get him under the water. 

He just easily moves and flips her over his shoulder into the pool. “Come on, David,” he smirks. “You can do better than that.” 

It turns into a game, them trying to dunk one another, while Fabiola and Eleanor join in eventually. It’s so much fun, and Devi is reminded why she loves spending her time with Ben. 

He makes her laugh until her stomach hurts, makes her feel good about herself. He makes everything better. 

“You guys want something to eat?” he says, after about an hour of wrangling with one another in the pool. 

Devi’s stomach chooses that exact moment to growl, and she flushes when Ben’s eyes land on hers. He smirks. “Got my answer.” 

“Shut up.” 

“I’ll go help Patty bring some stuff in. Can you guys set up?” 

Eleanor and Fabiola nod. “Yeah, sure, Ben,” Eleanor says. 

He flashes her a grin. “Thanks.” 

Devi takes the steps out of the pool to grab her towel, and turns back thoughtlessly. 

She nearly drops her towel when she sees Ben push himself out of the pool from the deep end, muscles in his back shifting beautifully as he stands up. She gapes at him, faintly hoping she isn’t like, obviously drooling. Dammit, when did this _happen?_

Devi really, _really_ wants to reach out and touch him, but there’s actually no way to do that without embarrassing herself. She swallows dryly as he disappears inside the house, praying to god that Eleanor and Fabiola didn’t see that. 

She turns her head to meet the knowing looks of Eleanor and Fabiola, says fuck that to that prayer, and raises a hand to stop them. “Don’t you dare.”

She thinks she’s saying the words internally, but embarrassingly, she utters them out loud. “I mean, did he look like _that_ when he left for Italy?”

“People grow, Devi,” Eleanor says, primly.

Her eyes bug. “Yeah, but like _that_?”

“Hormones,” Fabiola says, by way of justification, with a shrug.

Devi decidedly ignores the smug looks her friends send her and helps them set the table, clearing the center so Ben can bring out the food. 

He’s still shirtless—ok, at this point, she’s 100% sure he’s trying to kill her, and the worst part is, it’s working—when he steps back out with sandwiches. 

Devi drags her eyes from his abs and focuses on the food, and thankfully, with her friends, it’s easy to focus on something other than him. 

She gets up, at one point, to head over to the drinks table and grab something, and when she turns around, she almost crashes right into Ben. “Oh!” she says, jumping, and then offers him a smile. “Sorry.” 

Ben steps towards her, definitely closer than necessary and she can see the water droplets on his skin and smell a lingering combination of chlorine and sandalwood. “Hey,” he murmurs.

_Holy shit, did his voice get deeper?_

“Uh—hi!” Devi manages to stammer out.

He reaches behind her and for a brief insane second, Devi thinks he might be about to wrap an arm around her waist and pull her flush against him. So much skin is visible, and right fucking there, and she wants to touch it so badly, her head spins. 

His eyes lock with hers, and he stops in the middle of whatever the fuck he’s doing, lips curling up into a smirk. “You ok?” 

She really doesn’t want to say she whimpers, but there’s no other apt way to describe the pathetic little sound she lets out, looking into his eyes. Devi’s hand curls around the edge of the table, her legs shaking the slightest bit. She presses her lips together, determined not to let another sound like that escape, and nods. 

He then pulls back, holding a can of soda in his hands. He passes it to her and Devi swears she feels even more aflame when their hands brush.

“Sorry, I had to get something,” Ben says, but from the smugness in his tone, she can tell he isn’t sorry at all. 

Fuck, she hates her hormones.

“It’s cool,” she says, voice evidently shaking.

Ben cocks his head, and the action should not be so attractive, yet she swears it sets her nerves alight. His eyes drag over her, slowly, purposefully. “Really? You’re cool?” 

“As—as a cucumber,” Devi stammers out, and then wants to smack her head against the edge of the pool. _As a cucumber?_ Who even said that anymore? 

He stares at her, before a smirk crosses his lips, and Devi’s _never_ been so conflicted as to how to deal with it. She either wants to slap that smirk off his face or—or kiss it off. 

What the hell is _wrong_ with her? 

(Hormones, she tries to say. She’s 14. Estrogen and oxytocin and vasopressin, flooding her bloodstream, a natural response to Ben. It’s perfectly scientific. But still, it does little to quell the almost primal urge she feels to pull him closer and trace his chest with her fingertips, to have his mouth brush against her neck.)

Just the thought has her breathing turn shallow, and she can’t help it if her eyes fall to the hollow of his throat, something he doesn’t miss, of course. 

He taps his chin. “I always knew you couldn’t resist me, David.”

“I hate you!” Devi bites out.

“Nah, you’re obsessed with me.”

He then turns away from her, diving back into his pool to swim another few laps and Devi collapses into a lounge chair, hand loosely gripping the stupid drink that got them here.

The rest of the evening passes uneventfully, Fabiola and Eleanor both trickling out when the sky darkens from the orange purple streaks of sunset to the blackness of night.

Ben steps out of his house, holding two cones of ice cream, and he hands her one. “Here,” he says, and then smiles at her. 

It’s not the smug smirk that had been ever present on his face the whole day, but the soft, bright one she knows is just for her, and this sets her heart racing and calms it down all at the same time. 

Devi licks her ice cream, smiling. “Thanks,” she says, softly. 

Ben smiles back. “Any time.” 

They sit there, underneath the stars, eating their ice cream, and Devi glances over at Ben, biting back a smile. 

“What, David?” he says, not even looking at her. He knows her too well. 

“You have—come here,” she says, instead, laughing. 

Ben turns to face her, and Devi drags her thumb across his bottom lip, wiping away a bit of the ice cream there. “All good,” she says softly. 

His eyes lock with hers, and Devi feels like she’s underwater again, all sounds muffled, everything drowning out but him, him, him. 

“Always knew I was hot, David,” he says softly. 

“Humble, aren’t you?” Her hand is still resting on his cheek, and she doesn’t want to pull it away. Would his lips be cold, if she kissed him, from the ice cream? Or would they be warm, like they had last year? 

(Orbits, elliptical orbits. She always finds herself back here with Ben, by his pool, under the stars. It has become their place.) 

Devi reluctantly pulls her hand away, well aware it’s been resting there for too long, and clears her throat. “I really, really missed you,” she says, because it’s here, under the stars, with _him,_ she feels most able to admit the truth.

“I missed you too,” Ben admits, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

Devi tucks herself into him so that half her back is pressed against his chest, settling her head to rest on his sternum. He rests his chin on her head, and wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. 

The whole plane of his chest, warm, soft skin, is pressed against her back, but what she’s focused on more is the sound of his heartbeat, low and steady, reverberating throughout his chest, thumping strong. 

Devi heaves a sigh of relief and contentment, rests her head against his chest, and breathes him in.

* * *

Ben walks up to Devi’s doorstep filled with giddy, nervous anticipation.

He’s attending his first high school party, on Halloween, and he is ridiculously excited.

He rings Devi’s doorbell once, before ringing it another two times for good measure, bouncing on his heels as he waits for someone to answer the door.

Devi’s mother swings open the door. “Benjamin! So good to see you!”

“H—hi Dr. Vishwakumar,” Ben says, suddenly feeling flustered. Even after knowing Devi and her parents for nine years, Devi’s mother still absolutely terrifies him.

Nalini turns her head toward the stairs. “Devi! Benjamin is here to see you!”

Devi makes her way down the stairs, wearing a white dress, with a prominent golden belt. On her wrists are two golden bracelets and she’s donning a translucent blue cape that flutters behind her as she walks down. 

Ben blinks, taking her in. The heavy makeup she’s wearing emphasizes the gold tones of her eyes, and he’s unable to stop looking at the way her neck curves smoothly into her shoulder, at the way her neckline dips just low enough for him to want more, wondering what it would be like if he reached out and touched her neck, ran his fingers across the line of muscle he sees. 

Her costume perfectly accentuates her curves and Ben finds he’s staring at her breasts and her legs and her hips and everything—and holy fuck he is being such a creep right now.

He quickly snaps himself out of it. “H—hi Devi.”

“Ben,” she answers with a smile.

Nalini clicks her tongue. “So, Benjamin, where are you taking my daughter tonight?”

“A Halloween party, ma’am.” 

Any kindness in Nalini’s eyes melts away and Ben realizes he perhaps should have kept his mouth shut. But he’s incapable of lying to Devi’s mom, the few times he’s tried it hasn’t gone well. She is unfairly terrifying.

Nalini crosses her arms and glares at Devi. “A party?”

“Please mom,” Devi begs, placing her hands together in a prayer motion. “Just this once?”

“Let her have some fun, Nalini.”

Mohan steps into the room, his face split with a grin like sunshine. “Besides, Ben here will keep her in check.” His eyes crinkle and he rests a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Right, Ben?”

“Of course, Mr. Vishwakumar.”

Nalini purses her lips and frowns slightly. “Hmm.” She turns to face Devi more fully. “As long as you’re home by 11, and if I smell even one drop of alcohol on you, you’re grounded until after graduation.” She fixes Ben with a pointed glare. “I’m trusting you, Benjamin.”

Ben swallows roughly. “Yes, ma’am.”

Devi smiles, her grin radiant and quickly hugs Nalini. “Thanks, Mom!”

Mohan comes around and wraps his arm around Nalini’s shoulders, and she glances at him, softly smiling. He’s never seen Nalini quite as soft as she is around Mohan. They balance each other out, he thinks. 

“Your mother is right, though, Devi,” Mohan says sternly. “No drinking.” 

“I promise, Dad!” She jumps up and down, grabbing Ben’s hand. “Come on!” 

She pulls him out of the house, and he stumbles to keep up. “Devi—Devi, wait,” he says, laughing. “I still have to call us the Uber.” 

Devi frowns, tapping her foot on the sidewalk. “Well, do it quick!” 

Ben rolls his eyes, fishing his phone out of his jeans pocket underneath his costume. “Fine.” 

She looks down at her own costume. “Do you think I look ok?” 

_You look ridiculously hot,_ is what he wants to say, at first, and then he wants to shoot himself for even thinking that. 

Ben types the address in on the app and calls the car, and then glances over at Devi, swallowing roughly. 

Abstractly, he’s known his best friend is a girl for years. He knows that. But god, is she a _girl._

Her hair falls down around her shoulders, and the neckline of the dress exposes her collarbone, and all he can think about it is following the line of her dress—which dips into a shallow v neck—down her body with his fingers. 

Ben tears his eyes away from her and looks at the ground—except now he’s looking at her legs and holy fuck were they always this long and—

“You look great,” he says, hoping his voice doesn’t sound too strangled. He hates himself _so much._ Devi deserves way better than him objectifying her like this. God, why is he such a creep? 

“Cleopatra was like, crazy pretty too, so it works.” He flashes her a grin, enjoying the way her cheeks pinken. 

“She wasn’t just pretty, Ben,” she says, and oh, he recognizes that tone in her voice, the one that says she’s about to teach him about something. “In fact, she wasn’t actually particularly beautiful. What she _was_ was incredibly intelligent. She was extremely interested and knowledgeable in the sciences, as dictated by Arab contemporaries, and she reformed the system in Alexandria and Egypt. She was a linguist, a fleet commander, and she did something three centuries of her ancestors couldn’t: get the support of Greek _and_ Egyptian subjects she ruled over.” 

Ben blinks at her. “Wow. That’s fucking awesome.” 

Devi grins, and tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Right? Not all of us are basic bitches who go as Julius Caesar.” Her eyes trace over his costume, lingering on his arms, and Ben frowns, glancing down at them to make sure there’s nothing wrong with it. 

He’d chosen not the toga Caesar would have worn, but the armor for when he was a soldier, and Ben crosses his arms in frustration, shivering a bit at the cool October wind blowing against them. 

“You told me you wanted us to go as historical figures!” he protests. “Caesar is a good choice!” 

She snorts. “Caesar is fucking boring, Ben. You couldn’t have picked, I don’t know, Caligula? Nero? Plato? Socrates?” 

“Oh, I see, you just want me to poison myself with hemlock before the night is over.” 

“Wasn’t that clear from the start?” 

“You don’t need me to dress up as Socrates if you want me to die. I mean, as Caesar, I still might get stabbed 23 times.” 

“Only one of those stabs would be fatal, Ben.” 

“Et tu, Devi?” 

“Yes, I et.” 

“That's not how Latin works, and you know it, David. You're making my ears bleed.” 

“Oh, like you do whenever you speak Mandarin?” she shoots back. 

Ben laughs. “We both know I’m better than you at it.” 

“You only got good at it to spite me.” 

“That’s what a good friend does, David.” 

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “You’re the most annoying friend ever, Gross.” 

Ben flashes a grin at her. “I’m still your best friend, though.” 

Devi steps forward, pressing herself up against his side and peeking at his phone. “Where’s the damn car? It’s taking forever.” 

“Uh,” he says, a bit strangled. Her whole fucking _body_ is pressed up against his and he can feel _everything,_ her breasts against his arm and the way she smells—a mixture of jasmine and coconut—and he’s well aware if he turned to her his hands would fit perfectly on her hips, and he’s really, really trying so very hard not to hyperventilate right now. 

He glances down at his phone. “Should be arriving at any minute.” 

“Hmm,” she says, and then steps back, giving him room to breathe, before he combusts. 

Ben barely manages to focus on anything once the car arrives, and for the entire trip to the party, but once they finally get there, things start to ease up. He and Devi walk in and find some of their friends, people they know from classes they have together, and chat. 

He can’t help but look at her the whole time, let his eyes drag down her body and linger on the dip of her waist before he realizes he’s ogling her like—like some goddamn lecher. After a while, though, he and Devi get bored and wander further into the house, looking for something else to do. 

They head to the refreshments table, where Ben hands Devi a cup of punch. She sniffs it, suspiciously. “This definitely has alcohol in it, and while I’m all for getting drunk, my mother will kill me.”

Ben grins, and pulls out a pack of gum from his pocket. “You should be ok.” 

“You’re a lifesaver,” she breathes, and then sips the drink. 

Moving a bit further into the house, they come upon a room full of people sitting on the floor, a glass green beer bottle in the middle. 

“Hey guys,” one of the circle members greets. 

Devi raises her drink in greeting. “What’s up?” 

“You should join us,” one of their classmates—Ben thinks his name might be Matthew—says. “We’re playing spin the bottle. Obviously.”

Ben blinks a few times. “No, I don’t think we’re interested in—”

He’s cut off by Devi’s punching him playfully in the arm. “Come on, Gross,” she goads, eyes glinting with mirth. “Don’t be a chicken.”

“I’m not a chicken,” Ben protests, with a huff, rubbing the now tender spot where Devi punched him.

She cocks her head. “Well, if you’re not a chicken, you’ll play spin the bottle.”

Before he can even respond, Devi’s grabbing his arm and tugging him towards the circle of their peers.

He hesitantly takes a seat and catches Devi smiling at him, and he can’t help but smile back, feeling his cheeks slightly warm. He hopes it’s just the effect of the punch.

In her new seated position, Ben can see a good deal of her legs—and holy crap are her legs somehow longer? He kind of wants to see what it would be like if he ran his hand down the length of them, if he pressed his thumb against the inside of her ankle and—

Fuck, his hormones make him feel like a goddamn predator.

He watches the bottle, almost hypnotized as it spins, and watches their classmates lean into the middle of the circle to kiss each other awkwardly, even getting into the spirit of the game and clapping his hands when they do so.

Finally, it’s his turn and he feels a small amount of dread settle in his gut. He squeezes his eyes shut, and spins the bottle, only opening his eyes once he finally releases it.

It whirls around for a while, its momentum constant, and for a brief insane moment, Ben thinks the bottle might never stop spinning, that he might get out of this ridiculous game he didn’t really want to play to begin with.

Then, the bottle lands on Devi.

He hears the wolf-whistles and claps from the circle of peers surrounding him. “I—I can’t kiss Devi!” he yelps out.

“It’s the rule of the game, bro,” one of their classmates slurs, clearly drunk.

His heart is pounding rapid fire in his chest as he meets Devi’s eyes, she’s looking at him with anticipation. “She’s my best friend,” he protests.

The circle merely snickers. “It’s not like she’s your sister!” someone, Ben isn’t quite sure who, yells out.

He makes eye contact with Devi again and she nods slightly. 

Okay, this is happening then.

They both lean in at the same time, and Ben brushes his lips against hers, chaste, quick, and familiarly awkward.

Her lips are soft, and taste slightly like cherries, and it takes all of his willpower not to deepen the kiss, not to further open his mouth to her, not to weave a hand through her silky, ridiculously luscious hair and pull her closer.

_What the fuck?_

Ben pulls back quickly, clearing his throat and the circle explodes into applause around them.

He looks at Devi again and she’s flushing a deep pink right now, ducking her head bashfully, and god, he kind of wants to kiss her again.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket then and checks the time. “Shit, Devi, it’s 10:45. We gotta go,” he says, standing up. 

She swears, getting up after him. “Bye, guys,” she says, barely sparing the group, who’s already back into the game, another glance. 

Ben’s already tapping away on his phone, calling the Uber for him, and he looks over to see Devi pulling her chapstick out of her purse and reapplying it. 

Holy _shit,_ he did that. 

Ben forces himself to look away from her mouth and waves his phone. “Uh, the car should be here any minute.” 

Devi snaps her purse closed. “Oh, ok,” she laughs, slightly strangled. 

Ben raises his hand up and rubs the back of his neck, wondering if they should talk about what just happened between them. 

“So,” he starts. “That was—” 

_“So weird,”_ she answers for him. 

(Amazing.)

“Right,” Ben laughs. “Super weird. Like, they really don’t get us.” 

Devi rolls her eyes. “Pathetic heteronormativity. They don’t get that a guy and a girl can be just friends. I mean, most of your best friends _are_ girls.” 

“True.” 

“I mean, come on! Like, you literally feel the same way about me, Fab, and El. There’s nothing there.” 

(Well, definitely not exactly the same way. He doesn’t stare at them and think about how stunning they look 24/7, that’s for sure.) 

“I don’t know about that, David,” he says, deciding to tease her instead. “I like them a lot more than you.” 

Devi smacks him in the chest with her purse, as the car rolls up. “Fuck off, Gross.” 

Ben chuckles and follows her into the car, and he hands her a piece of gum. “So, did you have fun tonight?” 

She cocks her head. “Not really.” Devi wrinkles her nose. “We literally just talked to people. I can do that at school all the time.” 

“Even the free booze can’t drag you back?”

“Nah,” Devi sighs, leaning back in her seat. “I’d rather just hang out with you.” 

Ben feels his face grow hot, but he smirks at her. “Knew you couldn’t get enough of me, David,” 

Devi shuffles over in her seat and lays her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his arm like it’s a teddy bear. “You like it,” she murmurs. 

He leans over and gently, so faint he thinks she could miss it, brushes his lips against the crown of her head. “I do.” 

She sighs, snuggling her head into his shoulder. “Do you remember when we used to go trick-or-treating together?”

Ben smiles. “Obviously. And you used to steal all of my candy until we had to come up with a system.” 

“Fuck you,” she mumbles, quietly. “I deserved that candy when I saved you from a dumb constume every year.” 

“Don’t think that’s how it works, David.” 

“Hell yeah it is.” 

They’re silent for the rest of the car ride back, which is only a few minutes long, and Ben asks the driver to wait for a moment so he can walk Devi to her door and back. 

She turns to him when they reach the front porch. “Thanks for coming with me, but uh, next year?” 

Ben wrinkles his nose. “Yeah?” 

“Let’s just all get together and watch scary movies,” she says. 

He grins. “I think I’d like that better too.” 

Devi then steps forward, placing a hand on his arm, and Ben feels all of the oxygen leave his body in one fell swoop. She leans forward, and is—is she—?

She presses her lips to his cheek, soft and firm at the same time. They’re warm and he wants to move his head so that maybe his lips catch hers. 

After what feels like both eternity and no time at all, she pulls away, giving him a soft, beautiful smile. “Thanks for tonight, Ben.” 

He gapes at her. “Uh—uh yeah! Of course!” 

“I’ll see you at school?” 

Ben nods, shoving his hands in his pockets and backing away from her so that he doesn’t do something stupid like pull her closer. “Yup! For sure! See ya later, skater.” 

(Please, someone come and shoot him, right now. You’d be doing the world a favor.) 

Devi’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, but before she can say anything, the door behind her opens, revealing her father. 

“Thank you, Ben!” he calls. 

“Sure, no problem, Mr. Vishwakumar!” Ben says back, raising his hand in goodbye before ducking into the car and wondering how much it would cost to get the driver to run him over.

As the car pulls away from the curb, Ben groans and leans back in his seat. Smooth. Really smooth. Still, the space where she kissed him tingles, and he kind of can’t help the ridiculously dopey grin that crosses his face as he presses his hand to it. 

Next year. 

* * *

They’re sitting in her room, doing homework, when the whole house plunges into darkness. 

Devi startles. “Fuck,” she swears. She had heard the storm raging outside while she and Ben were working, but she hadn’t been worried. This was _California._ They had houses built to withstand earthquakes. 

But now, it’s pitch black in her room, the only sounds the rain pelting almost viciously against the windows. 

Devi blinks when a bright light suddenly flashes in front of her eyes, and she realizes Ben’s turned his phone flashlight on. “Hey,” he says. “You’re good?” 

She nods, swallowing a bit roughly. “Y—yeah. I’m fine.” 

The look on his face softens. He reaches a hand out and grabs hers, thumb stroking over the back of her palm. “Hey, I’m here, ok?” 

Devi breathes in shakily, gripping his hand tighter. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.” 

Her phone rings suddenly, and she breathes a sigh of relief that the phone lines aren’t down. 

“Mom?” she says, picking up. 

“Kanna, are you ok?” 

“Yeah, Mom,” Devi answers. “We lost power, but Ben and I are ok.” 

“Good, good,” Nalini says. “Your father called me and said his work lost power, and the clinic is out as well. I wish I could come home, but there’s a major tree blocking the road, so neither your father nor I can get there. Are you going to be ok?” 

(No. No, she doesn’t think she’s going to be ok, without either of her parents here, in a dark house, without any lights, with the storm crashing outside.) 

Devi feels Ben pull her closer, and she looks over at him. 

She’s not alone. She’s got him. 

“Yeah, Mom. Ben’s here with me. We’ll be ok.” 

“Thank god you’re not alone. Let me know if Benjamin wants to call his parents, alright? We’ll be happy to keep him for as long as necessary.” 

Devi nods. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll let you know if anything changes.” 

“Stay safe, kanna. I love you.” 

“Love you too, Mom,” Devi answers. She sets the phone down. “My mom says you can call your parents and let them know you’re here.” 

Ben smiles ruefully. “They’re not in the country right now. It’s fine.” 

Every time Ben references one of his parents, how they’re not here with him, Devi hates them a little more. Sometimes, it feels like she’ll never be able to spend enough time with Ben, that she could laugh with him forever. She’ll never understand how his parents don’t feel the same way. 

“Ben,” she starts softly. 

He holds up his hand. “It’s fine, Devi.” He stands up, holding a hand out. “Come on. We have to go find some candles.” 

“Candles? Why do we need candles? We’ve got our phone flashlights.” 

Ben sighs, glancing out the window. “Well, this storm doesn’t look like it’s gonna be easing up anytime soon, and without electricity in the house, we shouldn’t use up the batteries on our phones in case we need to call someone or someone calls us. So, candles.” 

Devi tilts her head, feeling a small smile cross her lips. “For once, not a totally terrible idea, Gross.” 

Ben rolls his eyes, shaking his hand a bit. “Are you gonna insult me, or help me look for candles?” 

Devi places her hand in his, and he pulls her up. “Fine,” she sighs. “Guess I can’t make you do _all_ the work, like my slave.” 

“Oh, you mean I’m not already?” 

Devi laughs as they walk down the hallway. “Please, Gross. You’re an indentured servant.” 

Ben rolls his eyes, shaking his head as they walk down the stairs. “Always playing down my accomplishments, David.” 

She realizes, then, that her hand is still in his. And—holding hands with Ben isn’t something new. They used to do it _all the time_ as little kids, but not since they hit middle school. 

And, now his hand is wrapped around hers, and it makes her heart race. “Well,” she laughs, a bit awkwardly, extracting her hand from his. “I’m gonna go look for some candles, ok? There should be some in the kitchen.” 

Ben nods. “I’ll go find them.” 

As Devi rummages through the living room, she tries to calm her breathing, tries to get herself under control. 

This is—it’s kind of like the reaction she had at their pool party, but not exactly the same. Because Ben’s not wet and shirtless and smirking at her, and that—that was just a physical reaction, anyway, brought upon by hormones. 

This, right now, doesn’t make any sense. He’s not wet and shirtless (although she doesn’t think she would mind much if he _was)_ but he still makes her heart pound. Why?

(She doesn’t, like, have feelings for him. None at all. He’s just her friend and she’s scared. That’s why her heart is pounding around him. Right?)

Devi lets out a little cry of triumph as she locates the candles, pulling them out and loading them into her arms. 

She finds two, one that smells like cinnamon, and the other that smells like vanilla. Devi brings them into the living room, only to find that Ben’s got another one, and he’s sitting on the floor, holding a matchbox in his hands. 

He doesn’t notice her at first, cause the house is so dark, but his mouth is twisted up in concentration as he strikes the match against the box. It lights instantly, the flame flickering over his hands as he lowers it to the candle. Devi feels her face flush as she watches the way the flame dances over his fingers, illuminated by the one bright spot in the whole room. 

His hands are beautiful, and as they tilt the candle to light the wick inside, she wonders, for a brief second, what it would be like to have his hands on her. 

Her face flushes as hot as the flame, and she shakes her head to clear her errant thoughts. 

“Hey.” She sits down across from and pushes the candles towards him. 

Ben glances up and smiles at her. “Perfect.” He snorts as he picks up and turns the candles around, reading the labels. “We’ll smell like a bakery while cowering from the storm.” 

Devi rolls her eyes. “Just light the candles, would you, Gross?” 

Ben rolls his eyes, but does what she asks, and drops the match into a small, ceramic plate, pushing it away. He settles the candles around them, and Devi jumps as thunder rattles the house. 

“You good, David?” Ben says, eyes flickering up to hers. 

She nods, still focused on the window. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a bit jumpy.” 

Ben smirks, leaning back on his hands. “I still remember that time we were playing manhunt, and Eleanor surprised you so much you punched her in the face.” 

Devi winces at the memory. “I felt bad about it!” she protests. 

“You almost broke her nose,” he deadpans. 

“Again, I felt bad.” 

Ben throws his head back and laughs. “Never a boring moment with you, David.” 

He grins at her, and Devi feels her breath catch in her throat. 

She knows Ben is attractive—physically—it’s basically mandated, with eyes like his, but god, this is more than attraction. 

He’s so handsome it takes her breath away. 

The flickering flame of the candle casts the most beautiful shadows and planes of light over his face, emphasizing the cut of his jaw and the bright, almost luminous quality of his eyes. His smile seems impossibly more beautiful, and she can’t stop looking at him, drinking in every inch of his face. 

His face seems infinitely sharper and smoother in the candle light, features emphasized and melting into one another all at the same time, a contradiction that would not work for anyone other than him, she thinks. 

Devi wants to lean in and trace every single inch of his face with her fingertips, to breathe him in. 

She swallows roughly when he ducks his head, worriedly glancing at a candle, before glancing back up at her, offering her a small, soft smile. Her heart is racing in her chest, pounding away at her ribcage, and she doesn’t know why, why, why. 

_(It’s him. It’s Ben. It always has been.)_

Tearing her gaze away from him, Devi looks down at the candles. “Do you have any idea how much longer we’re gonna be stuck here?” 

“Dying to get away from me already, David?” 

She nods, smirking. “I think I’ve finally had enough of you, Gross.” 

“Took you forever,” he says. “Was wondering how to let you down easy.” 

Devi laughs, but she stops in the middle of it and shrieks when thunder rattles the house again.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, pressing a hand to her chest. 

“Come on,” Ben says. 

She looks over at him, to find him holding his hand out. “Ben?” 

“Devi.” 

Confused, she places her hand in his, and is surprised when he pulls her in, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “There,” he murmurs, breath brushing her cheek. “Better?” 

Her tongue is tied, and she can’t think of anything other than the fact that he still smells like sandalwood, better than any of the candles, but she nods. 

“Didn’t peg you to be one who was scared of storms, David.” 

“Oh, and you think you know me so well, Gross?” she chuckles. 

Ben’s eyes glint. “Quiz me.” 

Devi raises an eyebrow in intrigue. “What’s my favorite movie?” 

_“When Harry Met Sally,_ but you tell everyone it’s _2001: A Space Odyssey,_ cause you wanna impress them.” 

“What’s my favorite food?” 

“Cheeseburgers or samosas.” 

“What was the only test I ever failed?” 

“The pacer,” he smirks. “You hated that.” 

She smacks him in the chest, hating how right he is. “The first time I had a harp solo?” 

“Fourth grade orchestra. You sucked.” 

“Hey!” she protests. “I did not.” 

“Yeah, David, you did, but you’re amazing now, so who cares.” 

She looks up at him. His face is only inches away from hers, and his eyes are brighter than the candles around him. He is so, so close. 

(He is so, so far.) 

“You think I’m amazing at harp?” she whispers. 

Ben laughs. “Devi, I think you’re amazing at everything. Maybe not _quite_ as good as me, but still.” He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Amazing.” 

She feels like she’s going to pass out, and her eyes dart over his face, drinking him in. She thinks about how he had kissed her on Halloween, unsure, but gently. She wants badly to kiss him now, to try and make it a little steadier, a little better. 

It’s weird, wanting to kiss someone. She’s never like, wanted to kiss a guy before, never felt the urge to have someone’s lips press against her own, to run her hands through someone’s hair as she pulls them closer. 

But she wants that right now, with Ben. For the first time, she wants to kiss someone, and that someone is her best friend. 

The smile slips off of Ben’s face as he looks at her, eyes darkening, and he drinks her in the same way. She doesn’t want to think she’s imagining the way his gaze seems to linger on her mouth, but she’s too scared to ask. 

Maybe she doesn’t need to ask. Maybe she just needs to do. 

Just as she starts to lean in, though, closer to him, the lights flicker on, and the spell is broken.

He leaps away from her instantly, awkwardly clearing his throat and running a hand through his hair. “Well,” he says. “That’s good.” 

Bending down, Ben blows out the candles before standing up and carrying them to the kitchen, leaving Devi looking after him. 

He must not have wanted to actually kiss her, if he reacted like that. 

She shoves down the part of her that is hurt, and that aches for his lips on hers again, and decides that she should be grateful nothing happened, be grateful she didn’t throw away their friendship. 

Devi gets up and walks into the kitchen, finding Ben tucking the candles back away. He looks up at her and smiles, easy. 

She smiles back, and resolves to smother these simmering feelings before they grow out of control.

* * *

Devi hops into his room, smirking. 

“I won, Gross.” 

Ben raises an eyebrow and pulls out his laptop as she flops on the floor of his room, laying down on her stomach. “Won what?” 

Devi tosses her hair over her shoulder, eyes sparkling, revealing the sweep of her neck, and for a split second, Ben wonders what it would be like to trail his fingers down the length of her skin, all the way down to her—

He tears his eyes away and focuses on the paper in front of him, determined not to fucking embarrass himself in front of his best friend. “Our bet,” she crows. 

“Hmm,” he says, still scared to look at her. “What was it again?” 

“Ben!” A balled up piece of paper hits him in the side of the head. “Our bet! About who would get the better grade on the project. Loser has to proclaim the other the smartest one in front of a crowd of our peers. Suck. It. You lost.” 

He swears under his breath. “You’re fucking serious about that?” 

She smirks, nodding at him. “I am. And, since I scored half a point higher than you, you get to tell everyone what you _really_ think of me.” 

(He’s not exactly sure anyone in the world—least of all, Devi—wants to hear that. What he thinks about her, that is.)

“I just don’t know where you’re gonna do it,” she quips, finally turning her attention to her work. “Lunch time seems kinda boring, but I’ll accept it. Nobody’s ever in the library. And I’ll kill you if you have less than ten people as a witness.” 

Ben furrows his eyebrows, glances over at his backpack, where an ominous flyer rests. 

“Go to winter formal with me,” he blurts out. 

Devi freezes, pencil stopping in the middle of writing out an algebraic equation. “What?” she asks, eyes flicking up to meet his. 

(Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.) 

He’s said the words, and part of him wants to desperately backpedal, wants to pretend he didn’t say them, but he _did._ He can’t. 

So, he takes a deep breath and soldiers on. 

“Will—will you come to winter formal with me? As—as friends, of course,” he stammers. He’s clutching his pencil tightly, the only grounding point he has. “Every—everyone will be there and I can carry out the terms of our bet then.” 

Devi’s eyes widen. “Ben, are you—serious?” 

He shrugs. “Yeah. Why not? We’re friends. Unless you already have a date.” 

She shakes her head. “I don’t.” 

“Well, obviously not,” he snorts, trying to ease the tension between them. “Not when you dress like that.” 

Devi throws a pack of erasers at him. “You asshole,” she says, but there’s no bite to it. 

“Please, David. Ask your parents to introduce you to an outlet mall, or something. Not everything has to be 25% off for it to be good.” 

“You really are a pretentious dick, you know that?” 

Ben smirks. “You pay such close attention to me? Aww, David, I’m flattered.” 

“That’s it,” she growls. “You’re going down.” 

Devi lunges at him, and Ben topples backwards. “Wait!” he says, scrambling for cover. 

“Never! Admit defeat!” 

“Oh my god, Devi, we’re not eight!” Ben says, pushing her off of him. She’s still grappling at him, determined to push him on his back. 

“I can still beat you,” she smirks. “Scrawny ass kid.” 

“I’m not scrawny!” he protests, struggling to hold her back. 

“Yeah, you are!” She manages to slip out and lunge towards him, _again._ They hadn’t fought like this since like, elementary school, what the hell? 

Ben manages to grab her arms and pin her to the ground, hovering over her. “Really?” 

It surprises him, how low his voice pitches, with her underneath him, the curve of her throat gently pulsing as she sucks down air. Devi breathes heavily as she struggles to pull her wrists out of his hands, eyes flicking over his face. 

He suddenly realizes he’s got his best friend pinned underneath him, that he can feel her whole body, hips and legs and breasts and _everything_ underneath him and he needs to move off of her _right now_ if he doesn’t want to irreparably destroy their entire friendship. 

It takes him a moment, but he manages to pull himself off of her, clearing his throat. 

Devi sits up instantly, hair a tangled mess, and his face blooms red at the sight. “Damn, Gross,” she chuckles, a little unsteady. She rubs at her wrists. “When did you get strong?” 

“I—I don’t—” he stammers out, unable to answer that question.

She smirks, although she won’t look him in the eye, he notices. “I’ll just assume you’re on roids.” 

“I am not!” 

She laughs, moving back to her work. “Something else, then.” 

He looks down and twirls his pen around his hands. “Do I get an answer to my question?” 

Devi purses her lips. “Well, I can’t turn down the opportunity to see you simultaneously embarrass yourself and exalt me at the same time. What kind of idiot would I be then?” 

“You’re always an idiot, David,” he says, unable to resist. Devi shoots him a warning glare, and he smirks, holding his hands up in surrender. “So….is that a yes?” 

She ducks her head down, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and a soft smile graces her lips. Her eyes flicker to lock with his, even with her head still tilted down. “Yes,” she says softly. 

He grins back, and tries to ignore the bursting warmth in his chest, like a solar flare. 

The day of the dance comes far sooner than Ben wants to think about, and of course, it’s a perfect night. 

His hands shake as he slips on his jacket. Mohan had said he would drive both Ben and Devi to the school where the dance was being held. He just—needed to get there. 

Ben heads downstairs and picks up the small bouquet sitting on the kitchen counter, nerves intensifying the longer he looks at it. 

This—is this too much? Flowers and going to a dance with his best friend, who’s always been there for him, always been by his side. 

He can’t imagine a life without Devi in it, and it’s becoming increasingly clear that he doesn’t _want_ a life without Devi in it. 

(He’s only 15, and yet he knows this with every single beat of his heart. He’s known Devi for nine years, has known her in all of her glory, and he knows himself, knows all he wants is her.) 

Ben’s jittery the whole way to Devi’s house, and when he steps out of the car, he’s worried he might crush the flowers from how tightly he’s holding them. 

Ben smooths down the front of his shirt and walks up the front pathway, nerves coiling in his stomach. 

Why is he so nervous? It’s just Devi. His best friend.

(Maybe it’s not that it’s _just_ Devi. Perhaps it’s that it _is_ Devi.) 

It’s just Devi.

He repeats this in his head like a mantra, to calm himself down, to keep himself from spiraling, and rings the doorbell.

Mohan swings it open not a moment later, his smile splitting his face. “Ben! You’re exactly on time.” 

“Hi, Mr. Vishwakumar,” he greets, stepping into the house. “How are you?” 

“Ben,” Mohan says, smiling kindly, “you can call me Mohan, you know.” 

“I know, Mr. Vishwakumar,” Ben says. It’s never happening, but the gesture is much appreciated. He’s known Devi’s parents for nine years, and no matter what, he’ll never be able to think of them as anything other than Dr. and Mr. Vishwakumar. 

“So, Ben.” Mohan claps his hands. “You’re taking my daughter to the winter formal?” 

“Um, yes, sir,” Ben says. He uses the hand not holding the flowers to rub at the back of his neck. “As—as friends.” 

“Hmm,” Mohan hums. He fishes in his pocket and holds out a mint for Ben, who takes it. “I see.” 

Ben flushes. “What—what do you mean by that, sir?” 

Mohan grins, wide and bright. “Absolutely nothing. Just that I’m on Devi duty tonight since Nalini is out running a few errands. I’m officially transferring the torch over to you.” He winks at Ben. “I think you’ll keep her on her toes, though.” 

“It’s more the other way around.” 

Mohan throws his head back and laughs, full-bodied. Ben has always thought Devi was like the sun, shining brighter than all those around her, but he sees she gets that from Mohan. 

“Dad?” 

Ben turns to look at Devi at the top of the stairs, and nearly drops the flowers on the ground. 

She’s—beautiful. 

(Objectively, Ben has _always_ known Devi is beautiful, has always known she is captivating. It’s hard to _not_ see how beautiful she is, frankly. She’s mesmerizing, wholly captivating, like a comet streaking across the night sky.) 

But this, this is something else. 

This is not a passing notion or something he thinks offhandedly. This is not a mere flicker of a thought, or something he notices a bit. 

No, right now this is the only thing going through his mind. 

She’s beautiful and it’s all-encompassing. 

“Ben?” 

Suddenly she’s standing in front of him, head tilted to the side, exposing her jaw, and he wants—oh he _wants_ —to press his lips against the line of her jaw. 

“H—hi,” he stammers out. 

“Are you ok?” 

Devi reaches a hand out, but he can’t stop looking at her. The dress in and of itself is simple, crushed red velvet wrapping around her body, knee length skirt flaring out, cap sleeves that end at her elbows. It’s simple, not glittery like half of the dresses he had seen on the girls from Instagram photos already posted, and it doesn’t announce itself the moment she walks into a room. 

She is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, and his heart trips over in his chest at the fact. He doesn’t think he can look anywhere else but her. 

He realizes, then, that he's staring at her like an _absolute_ idiot, and so, he finds a way to recover. 

The flowers are still clutched in his hands. 

“Here!” he says, shoving them at her. He misestimates how close they are to one another and ends up almost punching her in the chest with them, the bouquet tickling her nose. 

She stumbles back, and just manages to catch the flowers. “You got these for me?” 

He stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. I thought you would—would like them.” 

Devi smiles, and buries her face in the flowers. “I do. Thank you.” 

Ben resists the urge to reach out and brush her hair back, smiling at her instead. “I’m glad.” 

He clears his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets to stop himself from touching her cheek. “You look beautiful,” he murmurs. 

Her cheeks explode, pink, the exact same blush she gave him when they were five years old. Nine years later, and it’s still as beautiful on her as ever. “Thank you.” 

He hears a click and turns to find Mohan standing there, camera raised. “Sorry,” he grins, not sounding sorry at all.

“Ugh, Dad!” Devi says, rolling her eyes and stomping her foot. “Why do you have to be so embarrassing all the time?” 

“Well, kanna,” Mohan says, reaching out and smoothing her hair, “I believe I signed a contract when I had a daughter? Ah, yes, Section 13B, article A says that I must embarrass her whenever poss—” 

“Dad,” Devi cuts him off, laughing. 

Ben watches as Mohan slings an arm around Devi’s shoulder, and she laughs, tucking herself into his side.

He wishes he had that, had that easy affection and care with his parents. When was the last time his father hugged him? 

Mohan notices him standing there and sweeps his arm out. “Come here, Ben.” 

Ben walks forward and is a bit surprised when Mohan sweeps him into a hug. Devi rolls her eyes fondly at her father, her cheek pressed against his chest. “Parents,” she whispers. 

But Ben likes this. 

“God, why are you two getting so old?” 

Mohan releases them and steps away, tapping Devi on the nose. “I remember when this one came home from school, Ben, and all she talked about was you.” 

Ben raises an eyebrow, turning to Devi. “Dad!” she hisses. 

“Really?” he asks, smirking. 

“I mentioned you, like, once.” 

“Aww, don’t worry, Devi. I didn’t shut up about you either.” 

Her eyes flicker up to his. “Really?” she says softly. 

Ben swallows. “I mean, yeah. You were so loud, how could I forget?” 

She smacks him in the chest lightly as he laughs, and then Mohan is taking a ton more pictures and ushering them out to the car. The car ride to the school is as usual when Mohan drives them around, filled with laughter and happiness, and there is more than one time where Ben looks over at Devi and wishes that he might be able to take her hand in his. 

(These feelings are getting—annoying, to say the least. He’s just got an attachment to her because she’s his best friend. That’s it. That is it.) 

Suddenly, then, they’re standing in the middle of the gymnasium, and his hands have never felt sweatier. “I’m—going to go get us some punch, ok?” He doesn’t even wait for her response before he’s darting away. 

Fuck, his hands are _so_ sweaty. What was he thinking, asking the prettiest girl in school—who just so happens to be his best friend in the world—to the dance with him? This means he would _have_ to dance with her. 

Ben grips the cups of punch tightly in his hands as he makes his way back to Devi, who’s standing chatting with Eleanor. 

“Hey, El,” he says. 

She’s dressed in a flowy, pink dress, one that makes her look like the wind should be blowing behind her on the moors of like, fucking Scotland, or something. 

“Hey, Ben,” she says, grinning. “So, Devi told me you’re filling the terms of your bet tonight?” 

He groans, turning to her. “David, must you tell _everyone?”_

“I never pass up the chance to embarrass you, Gross,” she says, sipping her drink. Her throat pulses, and he looks away, his face feeling a bit hot. “Don’t you know me better than that, by now?” 

Eleanor claps her hands. “What are you two just doing, standing around? Come on, go dance.” She grabs the cups of punch out of their hands and shoves them, gently, towards the dance floor. “Don’t be boring. One dance, and then you can fill the terms of your bet.” 

“Um,” he laughs, turning to Devi, “I don’t know what she was thinking, but we don’t have to if—” 

“Shut up and dance with me, Gross,” she says. 

His eyes nearly bug out of his head. “S—sorry, what?” 

“We look awkward standing here. Come on, dance with me.” 

It’s kind of emasculating, to be honest, being asked by a girl to dance, but at least Devi’s got the guts to do something. “Uh?” he says, awkwardly extending his hands. “I don’t—” 

Devi rolls her eyes and grabs his hands, placing them on her hips. Then, she drops her arms on his shoulders, linking her hands behind his head. “There you go,” she says, smirking.

Ben resists the urge to dig his fingers into her hips and pull her a bit closer, and holds her at arm's length. 

(His whole life, he has held her at arm’s length when all he has wanted to do is pull her closer. But that’s not what she wants, and that is all that matters here.)

“This is horrible,” he says. 

“Cause you look like a fucking robot, Gross. Actually, worse than a robot, Gears Brosnan looks more natural than you,” Devi mutters. “Moving a bit closer isn’t gonna kill you, you know.” 

She steps a bit closer, and his hands slide around to her back and holy _shit,_ he’s touching her back—her skin, actually, cause her dress has cut outs here—and his hands are right above her butt and he thinks he might literally fucking keel over. 

“It might,” he mutters. 

Devi narrows his eyes. “What did you say?” 

“Nothing,” he says quickly. “Sorry.” 

“You know, Gross, you should really get your brain checked out. I think there might be something wrong with it.” 

“Please, David. We all know I’m the perfect specimen.” 

“Mentally, you’re an idiot.” 

Ben raises an eyebrow and smirks. “So, you think physically, I’m the perfect specimen?” 

Devi’s cheeks flush bright red. “Fishing for compliments, Gross?” 

He hums. “Do you mean them?” 

Devi ducks her head, laughing. “You’re ridiculous.” 

“You’re still here, aren’t you?” 

She glances up at him through dark, dark lashes, and he can see the shimmery, gold powder she’s dusted over her eyes for tonight at this angle. It brings out all the colors of her eyes, brown, gold, copper, russet, and reminds him of the mountains in Colorado, gorgeous and deep, rock formations that have stood the test of time. “I am.”

Ben swallows, and looks down at his shoes. He wants to kiss her, wants to kiss her more than anything. It’s a deep, visceral ache inside of him, more akin to a need than anything else. He wants to kiss her so badly. 

Devi is the only person he’s ever kissed, and yet, as he looks at her right now, lips painted a dark maroon, the same color as her dress, she’s the only girl he ever wants to kiss again. 

Maybe—maybe this is ok. She _did_ accept his invitation. Maybe it’s ok if he tries to kiss her again. Maybe she’ll feel something for him.

He leans in, taking a hand up off her waist with the intent of moving it up to tilt her chin up, to kiss her, and lets his eyes flutter shut, but then she whispers, “you know you're my best friend, right?” 

He pulls back almost instantly, breathing a sigh of relief when he notices she’s not looking at him, and instead still at the ground. 

(He knows that. He knows he is her best friend, and that is part of the reason this hurts so much. Because the right thing to do _was_ to stop him, before he irreparably destroyed their friendship, which was—hands down—the best thing to ever happen to him. He’s not risking that on a maybe. He’s not risking one of the few constants in his life on a maybe, because he has a few confusing feelings swirling in the pit of his stomach.)

“Yeah,” he says, trying to make his smile a little less rueful. “I know. You’re my best friend too.” 

Devi’s smile suddenly turns from shy to smug. “Well, if I’m your best friend, I’ll kindly remind you you have to hold up your end of the bargain.” 

He groans, noticing the music has come to an end, and there’s the slight lull before the next song plays. “Yeah, you’re right.” 

And so, he embarrasses himself, praises Devi in front of the whole school, but it’s worth it to see the way she laughs, bright and clear. The rest of the night flies by in a blur, they dance with Eleanor and Fabiola, and hang out, drinking the punch, but it’s all Devi, in his memories. It’s her, and she shines brighter than anything else around them. 

Fuck, this crush on his best friend really isn’t going away, isn’t it? 

When Ben finally gets home that night, he changes as fast as humanly possible and flops backwards onto his bed, scrolling through Instagram. Eleanor had posted a photo of the four of them, smiling, and so he likes it, adding a snarky comment with Devi tagged in it. 

He’s still scrolling through various social medias, debating on sending Devi a snap, when a text from her comes in. 

**Devi:** My dad liked this and so did I

Below, she’s attached a photo. He clearly recognizes the moment, the one where she was smiling at him for the flowers and he was grinning back, before Mohan interrupted them. 

Ben feels his mouth turn up at the corners, however unwittingly, and fires a text back. 

**Ben:** I like it too. 

He saves the photo to his camera roll, and looks at it a bit longer, before turning his phone off, and going to sleep. 

* * *

Organic chemistry might just be the bane of Devi Vishwakumar’s existence.

Not because it’s hard or anything—it’s actually pathetically easy, just like everything else they’ve learned and been tested on this year—but because it’s head-achingly, mind numbingly tedious.

She’s lying on her bed, looking through her color coded flashcards while Ben sits on the floor of her room, facing her bed, holding a study sheet up his face. They’ve been studying organic reactions and quizzing each other on nomenclature for the past two hours and Devi is exhausted.

She tosses down her flashcards and swings her legs off the bed before crossing the room to take the spot next to him. Ben doesn’t look up from his sheet, still focused on studying and she huffs in annoyance. She pokes him repeatedly in the shoulder to get his attention. “What?” he asks, finally looking up at her, brow furrowed in irritation.

“I’m bored.”

“We have a test tomorrow, David,” he grumbles, turning his eyes back to his study sheet.

Devi snatches the sheet from his hands and tosses it across the room. 

“Hey!”

“Don’t lie and tell me you’re not ready for it.”

Ben’s eyes dart between her and his study sheet, which is now on the floor of the other side of the room.

“Seriously, Gross, you know you’re gonna do amazing. Not as well as me, of course, but better than everyone else in that class.”

Ben chuckles, finally giving in. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

There’s a moment of easy silence that stretches out between them before Devi pokes Ben’s shoulder again. “So,” she drawls out. “What’s new with you?”

Ben snorts and rolls his eyes. “We spend like every waking moment together, David, you already know everything.”

“Come on,” Devi goads, “There’s gotta be something I’ve missed.”

Ben glances at her, indecision swimming in his eyes, and Devi raises an eyebrow.

“Ben, you’ve got a weird look in your eyes. That one you get when you’re contemplating whether or not you should tell me something.” She shoves him playfully. “Spill it.”

“Actually there is something I wanted to tell you,” Ben says. He looks uncharacteristically nervous now, his hands folded in his lap.

“Well? Spit it out.”

Ben sucks in a deep breath. “You know Maria Sanchez, from our math class?” he asks.

Devi nods her head. “Yeah, I know her.” She narrows her eyes, regarding him in suspicion. “Why are you being so cryptic?”

“She asked me out!” Ben blurts.

Cliche as it sounds, the words feel like they knock the air out of Devi’s lungs. “Oh,” she finally says, sounding a little strangled.

(She hates that just hearing that another girl asked Ben out, causes some dark, poisonous feeling to begin swirling in her gut. It’s not like she has any claim on him. She’s not his _girlfriend._ She’s just his best friend. Devi has no qualms about who she is to him.)

“No witty retort to that, David?” Ben asks, smirking.

“No, you just surprised me is all.” She turns to face Ben more fully. “Why are you telling me this?” she breathes.

Ben taps his temple in contemplation before he finally says, “I just thought you deserved to know is all.”

“Are you going to say yes?” Devi asks, regretting the words the second they leave her mouth.

Ben scratches the back of his neck. “Actually, I was wondering what you think.”

Devi crosses her arms over her chest, trying to feign annoyance. “What I think?” she asks, desperately trying to ignore how squirmy this conversation is making her feel. Part of her doesn’t know—doesn’t know _why_ it bothers her so much. They’re in ninth grade. People date at their age. They ask each other out, and sooner, rather than later, she knows that they would be swept up in the dating scene. Or that Ben would at the very least. How could girls _not_ want him? He had the most stunning eyes she had ever seen, a smile to rival the sun. 

It just—had always been a potentiality, before this moment. Always a possibility, never a reality. 

“Yeah,” Ben says, “I mean, you are my best friend after all.”

Somehow, his words feel like a punch in the gut. She’s his best friend and nothing more, she never will be anything more.

(She thinks about that moment when he picked up for the winter formal when she thought he was looking at her as if she hung the stars in the sky. The flustered look on his face as he shoved flowers into her hands. The way he had told her she was beautiful. She was certain, certain that he—)

“Do you like her?” Devi blurts out, stopping her thoughts in their tracks.

Ben rubs his hand across his face. “I mean, she’s smart and pretty,” he laughs wryly, “what’s not to like?”

(He called her beautiful, though. Didn’t that _mean_ something? Obviously not.)

“But do you like her?” Devi asks again, clenching her hands in her lap so Ben can’t see them shaking. She wants to hold his hand, to hope they might stop shaking, but she can’t.

Does she really want to know the answer?

(She thinks about the way he looked at her before she convinced him to dance with her, nervous, flustered, and she hoped—hoped against all hopes—somewhat smitten. She thinks about the way they’d fallen back into their easy banter as he held her when they danced. The way his hands on the skin exposed by her dress felt like an electric current surging through her. She was certain, that night when they were dancing, he leaned in and was about to—)

“I don’t know,” Ben admits.

And it’s horrifyingly selfish, Devi knows this, but those words bring her a slight amount of relief.

The second she feels the relief wash over her, though, she hates herself for it, hates herself for denying him happiness, to spare her own feelings. 

Ben’s her best friend and he deserves the world, so she shoves back everything she’s feeling, every sick twisted feeling roaring in her gut and says, “Well, why not? You said it yourself, she’s smart and beautiful.”

(Pretty. He said pretty. He called _her_ beautiful, and while the memory brought her exhilaration and warmth, once upon a time, now it makes her heart twist painfully tight in her chest.) 

Ben blinks at her a couple of times. “You think I should say yes?”

Devi snorts and bumps her shoulder with his, trying to convey a level of happiness for him that she does not feel. “Duh, of course I think you should say yes.”

(The sick feeling in her gut only seems to build, growing in intensity, and causing a strange throbbing ache to appear on the left side of her chest. It spreads to every inch of her body, like a toxin, like rot, poisoning her from the inside out.)

Ben glances her skeptically. “Really?” His voice is full of disbelief.

Devi sighs and takes a deep breath. “Ben, I want you to be happy.”

(She hopes he doesn’t know what words she leaves out of that sentence. But they’re obvious aren’t they? Ben knows her well. He can read between the lines.)

His words come out quiet, as a whisper. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Devi says, giving him another playful shove. “You deserve to be happy.”

_(With me, with me, with me.)_

She swears she catches a flicker of a frown cross Ben’s face before his expression morphs into a smile, that soft smile she knows he reserves for her. (Is she going to lose that? Is he going to have a special smile for—for _her?)_ He reaches out to squeeze her hand. “Thanks.”

She squeezes back, pushing down the toxic, possessive feeling blooming in her chest. “Always.”

Seeing what she encouraged play out the next day, hits Devi like a ton of bricks. 

She knows it’s selfish, she knows it’s stupid, especially since she encouraged this of all things, but watching that other girl—what was it Ben said her name was? Marina? No, that’s wrong, it was Maria—laugh with Ben and place her hand on his bicep makes Devi feel physically ill.

(Maria touches Ben’s arm and Devi remembers how leanly muscled they had been at his pool, wonders what it would be like if he wrapped them around her and held her close and tight. But then she remembers that it’s not _her_ who gets to feel that, anymore.) 

“You’re jealous.”

Devi turns around to be greeted by Eleanor’s knowing expression. 

“I—I’m not jealous!” she protests, eyes flicking between Eleanor and Ben, who’s still chatting with Maria. “I just don’t want to lose our friendship is all.”

Eleanor snorts. “That’s a type of jealousy, Devi.” Her smugness shifts into sympathy. “But I think we both know it’s more than that.”

Devi glances back over at Ben, who’s laughing at something Maria said.

(Her heart breaks and flutters all at the same time, at the sound of his laugh. She knows it’s not reserved for her, but she can—she can make him laugh like no one else, right? She _earned_ that, after nine years of friendship and trading juice boxes and playdates. And this—this _girl_ can’t just come in and take Ben from her. She can’t!) 

Devi keeps her eyes focused on the scene playing out in front of her. It is like watching a car crash, watching a disaster she can’t bear to tear her eyes from, no matter how much it hurts to watch, no matter how much it feels like it’s tearing her apart.

He says something to her, and Maria laughs, bright and clear. She’s got gorgeous hair, long, brown, and thick, and if she’s in their math class, she must be smart. Devi knows enough about Ben to know that he needs someone who can keep up with him, knows that he needs someone who challenges him. 

She’d always done that, as—as his best friend, but will he not need her anymore? Will he pull away from her, for—for this girl? 

Maria’s more beautiful than Devi could—could ever hope to be, and they look so good standing together, and she laughs delicately, like a bell, graceful hand easily flipping her hair over her shoulder. Ben smiles at her, bright, not the soft one he has for Devi, but still one that makes his whole face light up, his eyes shine. Maria’s clearly into it, if the way she giggles is any indication. 

Oh, god, Devi feels like she’s gonna be sick. 

She glances at Eleanor. “Look, I told him to ask her out. Would I have done that if I was jealous?”

Eleanor lightly lays a hand on her arm. “You did that because you’re his best friend,” she whispers quietly.

“It’s not like I have any claim over Ben. He can make his own decisions and he deserves whatever makes him happy.”

(It’s just, she thought she made him happy.)

“You just thought you were enough.”

Devi snaps her head back in Eleanor’s direction, but she can’t find any words to say in response.

After nine years, she thought that she could read Ben, inside out, upside down, and backwards. He is her favorite thing to read, her favorite thing to study and learn about. She thought they were perfectly attuned to one another, that nothing could ever be miscommunicated.

But it turns out, all wires are capable of getting tangled and crossed.

She’s in a horrible mood for the rest of the day, snapping at her friends and being surly and uncooperative. Every time she sees Ben, her mood just sours even more, and she sees him _all the time._

(She can’t stop thinking about the way he had smiled, at Maria. Can’t stop thinking about it.)

It turns out subtlety is not Devi’s strong suit, a fact proven when Ben confronts her over lunch.

He slides into the seat next to her at their typical cafeteria table and Devi doesn’t even notice him until he speaks. “Are you okay?”

She snaps her head up and finds Ben is looking at her with genuine concern.

(She hates that he can see right through her, that she’s so terrible at hiding this corrosive feeling—eroding at her insides, eating away at her—from everyone but herself.)

“I’m fine,” she bites out, poorly masking her bitterness.

“You don’t seem fine, you’ve been acting weird all morning,” Ben says. He reaches a hand out to squeeze hers and it fucking hurts Devi to know that gesture is one of platonic comfort and nothing more. His voice is quiet. “Hey.” His blue eyes meet hers and he’s tracing the lines of her palm with his thumb. “You know you can always talk to me, right?”

Devi shakes her head sadly, because yes, he’s right, usually she can talk to him, about everything and anything. Ben is always there for her, always willing to listen—whether it be to her rants about the pathetically easy curriculum or her tumultuous relationship with her mother—but for once he’s completely wrong. She can’t talk to him, not about this—never about something like this.

“Really,” she tries to reassure him, “really, I’m perfectly fine.”

(She’s not, she’s not, she’s not.)

Unfortunately Ben can see right through her, the concern in his expression only growing. “Devi.”

“Why aren’t you sitting with your new _girlfriend?”_ she seethes, feeling regretful the instant she asks.

Ben’s expression morphs from one of concern to confusion. “She’s—she’s not my girlfriend.” 

Oddly enough, the words don’t do much to quell the pain lancing at her heart. Maybe it’s because of the knowledge that Ben doesn’t—never did, really—want her, that he’s always just seen her as his friend. 

“Well, then, what were you two talking about earlier? You certainly looked fucking friendly,” she spits, hating that she can’t keep the bitter tone out of her voice. 

Ben’s always been the better of them at hiding his feelings, by far, and she wishes she had that same ability right now. 

“Just—just our classes,” he stammers. “Devi, are you jealous?” 

“I’m not fucking jealous, Ben!” she snaps, setting her fork down and turning to face him. “I just—don’t want this girl to take up all your time, that’s it.” 

“Devi,” he breathes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No matter who I date, nothing will ever change between us.” He squeezes her hand again. “You’ll always be my best friend, okay?”

Devi gives a shaky nod and slips her hand away from his grasp as if he’s burned her. “Okay.”

(It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, because she knows Ben means it be comforting, to be reassuring, to be steady and reliable and soothing, but the idea of nothing ever changing between them feels like a knife to the gut or another vital organ. It’s selfish—she knows it’s selfish—but she can’t help it, she wants everything to change. She doesn’t want things to stay the same, she wants more. She wants him to want to be with—)

There’s a vicious sort of possessiveness coiling in her gut, and she hates herself for it. Hates that she thinks she’s entitled to him, in any sort of way. She doesn’t even—really know why she feels this way, to be honest, only that the thought of Ben with someone else, at his lips kissing someone else’s, makes her feel like someone’s stabbed her in the chest, puncturing her lung and heart at the same time. 

For a moment she looks down at her hand, shaking, and entertains the notion of being that girl. Being the girl who kisses him and flirts with him and—and is with him. But she shoves it away almost as soon as it appears. It’s Ben. Her _best friend._ He doesn’t want anything more with her, and she has to come to terms with that. 

But she says none of this and offers him a watery smile, hoping that for just once she’s encrypted her feelings enough for Ben to no longer be able to read her.

* * *

The day of Mohan’s funeral dawns sunny, and bright, not a cloud in the sky. 

Ben hates it. 

He hates how his hands shake as he ties the black tie, hates how heavy the jacket feels as he slips it on his shoulders. He hates everything, everything about this. Hates that he even has to _go_ to this funeral, hates that he has to watch his best friend fold in on herself, has to watch her shrivel and wither away, has to watch her mourn her father—who was a better man than his own. 

He calls an Uber to her house and when he arrives, the mood is somber. Everyone is walking around in black. He spots Nalini, in the corner, surrounded by well-wishers, looking older and more haggard than he can ever remember seeing her. 

He’d been at the concert, of course. To support Devi. He’d watched as Mohan had collapsed, and had rushed to Devi’s side. 

But, for the first time in their lives, she pushed him away. 

(She had never pushed him away before. That is what their lives will be split into now: before and after.)

Now, Ben stuffs his hands in his pockets and tries to avoid the curious glances he’s getting from many of the Indian people in the room, clearly wondering what he’s doing there. 

There’s only one person he really cares about seeing, and she’s not here. 

Ben toes off his shoes and stops at the picture of Mohan set out, smiling. 

Mohan might not have been _his_ father, but Ben had loved him. He’d always been there to pick Devi up when they were playing together, would ask Ben questions about his life and seem more interested in the answers than his own parents. His tenth birthday party, his parents hadn’t been there, but Mohan _had._

He knows his pain isn’t even a fraction of Devi’s, knows the two aren’t even comparable, but it hurts. It still hurts. 

Ben curls his hand around the pack of spearmint gum in his pocket—a habit he’d picked up from Mohan, who’d always had some candy or gum to give to the kids—and pulls it out, tucking it behind the picture. 

With that, he climbs the stairs, to the one place he’s sure he’s going to find her. 

Ben pushes open the door to Devi’s parents’ (Nalini’s, now) room to find her sitting on the floor of their closet, staring at the ground. It’s an utter mess, a sure sign that she’d lost her temper and lashed out earlier, but she’s as still as a stone statue right now. 

If he wasn’t able to see that her eyes were open, he’d be worried she was dead. 

She’s surrounded by clothes—her father’s clothes, he realizes. The green sweater Mohan loved is draped around her shoulders, like a cape, as if it’ll endow her with some powers, and she’s currently running her thumb back and forth across another shirt. 

Ben clears his throat. 

She doesn’t even look up. 

Walking forward, he’s careful not to disturb anything as he crouches in front of her, gently touching the very tips of his fingers to her arm. “Hey.” 

Devi doesn’t say anything, simply continues to run her thumb back and forth across the shirt. Ben takes a deep breath, and can just catch the faint scent of apples. 

He has no idea what to say. He’s never felt so fucking helpless in his entire life, watching her go through this grief, and this pain. 

Ben’s heart aches for her, for him, and for Mohan. He doesn’t think it’s ever hurt this much. Some part of him, primal and deep and strong, viscerally wishes he could fix everything, that he could take her into his arms and let her pain bleed into him, that he could take it all away. 

He would suffer through it for her, if he could. 

But he can’t, and there are some pains you simply cannot take from someone else, some pains they have to suffer through on their own. 

What can he do but be here for her?

He sighs, sitting down across from her. Her hair hangs down around her face, and Ben reaches a hand out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry.” 

Devi doesn’t respond beyond squeezing her eyes shut, head still tilted down towards the ground. He cups her cheek more fully, can feel the slightest exhale of her breath against his wrist. “I loved your father.” 

“Wasn’t enough to keep him alive,” Devi says bitterly. Her hand twists in her father’s shirt, crumpling it up. “Had to watch him die.” 

Ben strokes his thumb over her cheek. “I’m so, so sorry, Devi.” 

“What the fuck could you have done? It’s not like you gave him the heart attack.” 

“Devi.” 

“Go away, Ben. I can’t talk about this right now.” 

Ben blinks. “Fine.” 

For the first time since he found her, Devi looks up. “What?” she breathes. 

He shrugs. “You don’t want to talk about this, fine with me. So, let me talk about it.” 

Devi swallows roughly. “Your dad was one of the best people I’ve ever met in my entire life, Devi,” he starts off softly. “I loved him. Not nearly as much as you did, I know that, but I loved him. I did. And I’m honestly about thirty seconds away from turning into an absolute wreck over all of this. I know I’m always talking about how smart I am, but do you know what I know, with more certainty, than anything else in the entire world?” 

Her voice has never sounded smaller than when she says, “What?” 

“That he loved you.” 

“Loved me,” she repeats. “And now he’s gone.” 

“But you love him. You love him, Devi. You don’t ever have to stop loving him. You _won’t_ ever stop loving him.” 

Ben shifts then, gently pushing the clothes out of the way, to sit next to Devi. She lies her head on his shoulder, and he holds her hand, thumb stroking the back of her hand. “I feel broken, Ben,” she whispers. 

He closes his eyes. It hurts him to hear that, but he’s grateful she told him the truth. “I feel broken, my mother is broken, whatever relationship we had between us that existed before this—that’s broken. Everything is broken.” 

“I wish I could do something for you, Devi.” 

She lifts her head up off his shoulder, and looks into his eyes. His heart twists in his chest at the visceral, poorly hidden pain there. “You’re not broken.” 

Ben leans forward, presses his forehead against hers. “You’ve always got me, Devi. You know that. But this—this feeling of brokenness in you? No one can fix that but yourself. Not me, not your mom, no one. Just you.” 

Devi threads her hand through his arm, securely wrapping her arms around it and resting her head on his shoulder. Her hair tickles his nose, and she breathes, the slightest bit of tension easing itself from her body. 

“I don’t wanna go downstairs,” she says quietly. “I don’t want to listen to anyone telling me how sorry they are.” 

Ben nods. “Ok then. We won’t.” 

She startles a bit. “What?” 

“We can stay up here. For as long as you need.” 

Devi closes her eyes, fingers digging into his arm a bit tighter. “Tell me about something,” she murmurs. 

“What do you want to hear?”

“Anything.” 

Ben’s eyes flicker up to the ceiling, and although he can’t see them, and it’s bright, sunny outside, he imagines the stars are looking down on them again, imagines that they are shining, winking gemstones against the velvet black of night. 

“I named a star after your dad,” he murmurs. 

She sucks in a breath. “What?” 

“I was out by my pool last night, thinking about him. So I named a star after him. Rightmost star on Orion’s belt,” he whispers. “It’s got a real name, but I took it for your dad. So you know he’s always there. He’ll outlive both of us in the night sky.” 

This is when she starts crying. 

It’s quiet tears, but steady. Ben pulls his arm from her grasp and pulls her closer, lets her cry into his shoulder for as long as she needs. 

She cries hard, and long, and for what feels like hours. Every time her breath catches or she hiccups, it makes his heart break a little more in his chest. 

When it comes to his friends and his family, Ben cannot help but put them first. He cannot help but want to save them, cannot do anything but help. He cannot help with this, though, and he has never felt more frustrated at that fact. 

Devi cries until she can’t cry anymore, and yet, he’s not so dumb to think that this has solved anything. It’s solved nothing, in fact. Mohan’s still gone. That’s not something one can solve. It’s just something to process, something to accept. 

But it’s never going to be something that he can fix, it’s never going to be something that will hurt less. 

All he can do is be here for her. 

So he closes his eyes, clutches her a little tighter, and cries with her. 

* * *

Devi has very much made herself at home on Ben’s couch.

She’s surrounded by a sea of pillows, head rested against the fluffiest one, her head buried in a book. A soft, fluffy blanket she knows isn’t hers is laying over her body, over her legs and chest, from when Ben had settled her on the couch and draped it over her. She peers up from her novel to find him sitting on an armchair near the couch, also reading. She feels a sense of calmness wash over her, like she’s safe, like she’s _home_.

She’s been spending a lot more time over at Ben’s house since her cousin Kamala moved in.

There’s nothing wrong with Kamala perse, in fact, it’s that there’s nothing wrong with her that’s the problem.

Kamala is perfect. 

She’s nice, smart, gorgeous, and beloved by everyone she’s met since moving in with Devi and her mother.

And it’s not fair because Devi is all too well aware that she is none of those things. She’s rude and selfish and for the past few months has been the target of countless pitying, sympathetic glances and murmurs.

Even her mother seems to like Kamala more than her. Her mother hasn’t yelled at or criticized her cousin once, whereas Devi can’t even count how many times her mother has yelled at her in the past week, let alone her life.

(Some irrational, dark part of Devi worries that everyone likes Kamala more than her. It’s why she’s taken to inviting herself over to Ben’s instead of having him come to her. She doesn’t want _Ben_ to like Kamala more than her either. Ben’s hers. He’s always been _her_ best friend.)

She knows it’s wrong, she knows it’s completely unfair, but she can’t help but resent her perfect cousin because of it.

Ben’s place has become a safe haven from all of that. Even if it’s just for all of the fluffy pillows she’s currently surrounded by.

She sets down her book, marking the page with her bookmark, and looks up at Ben again. She finally notices the book he’s reading, and even though she’s known Ben and his tastes for years, she can’t help but snort.

He sets down his book on the end table and looks up at her. “What?”

 _“ Paradise Lost_? Really, Ben?”

“It’s a classic, David.”

Devi rolls her eyes playfully. “I think the word you’re looking for is pretentious.”

“Please, at least I have the brain cells to enjoy classic literature, you’re just indulging in another trashy Nora Roberts novel.”

Devi arches an eyebrow and glares at Ben. “And?”

“Nothing.” A smirk blooms across his face. “It’s just for one of the smartest students in our grade, your taste in books sure is juvenile.”

“The smartest,” Devi corrects, sitting more upright on the couch.

“Nah,” Ben says with a shake of his head. “We know that title belongs to me.”

“The only superlative that belongs to you is most pretentious.” Devi clicks her tongue. “In fact, if you look up pretentious in the dictionary, I’m pretty sure you’d just see a picture of yourself.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder before glancing back up at Ben.

His eyes glint with intrigue. “And where would you be?”

Devi jerks forward involuntarily and blinks rapidly, staring at him like he’s lost his mind. “What?”

“Where would you be in the dictionary, David?”

She tosses her head back and forth, pondering the question. “Easy,” she says with a smug smirk. “I’d be under ‘brilliant.’”

He laughs at that, and Devi finds herself laughing with him. She focuses on the sound of his laugh instead of the tears, pricking at the corner of her eyes, instead of the guilt pricking at her heart for being happy when her father is gone. Moments like these: the happy ones, with Ben, they make her forget. About her father, and her legs, about the pitying looks she's been getting, from everyone—classmates, teachers, complete strangers. When she laughs with Ben, she feels a little lighter, a little closer to normal again

(Maybe it’s not so much the laughter as it is him. Even crying with Ben feels soothing, in an odd way, like she’s slowly but surely chipping away at a weight sitting in her heart.)

When she finally ceases her laughter, she pulls her phone out of her pocket.

“Shit!”

Ben, who’s returned to reading his book, glances at her with concern. “What?”

She shoves the blanket draping her body onto the floor, then feels slightly guilty because she remembers Ben had mentioned it was made of something expensive like alpaca fur. (Ugh, why is her best friend such a rich asshole?)

Nevermind that, the time!

“I need to get home soon or my mom is going to kill me!” Devi struggles to push herself up off the couch, forgetting, momentarily, tragically, she doesn’t have the use of her legs. 

Before she even realizes what’s happening, Ben is walking towards her. “Ben.”

She wishes she didn’t need his help, wishes she could fucking _walk._

“David,” he sounds slightly annoyed, but his voice is still soft.

“I can do it on my own.”

(She can’t, but she refuses to be weak. She’s _not_ going to be weak around him.)

“Devi,” the annoyance in his tone is gone now, his voice is just soft, soothing, comforting.

Before she can protest any further, he’s tucking his arms underneath her legs and lifting her off the couch, settling her into her wheelchair. He crouches down to adjust her, handing Devi her things. 

She feels her breath catch when he ducks in closer to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She’s pretty sure his hand lingers on her jaw a little longer than necessary, but what shocks her is she doesn’t mind. She wouldn’t mind if his hand lingered for as long as he wanted. 

“You’re not wrong.” Ben’s thumb strokes her cheek and the tenderness of it makes Devi’s heart somersault in her chest. “You are brilliant,” he says, eyes dancing with an emotion she’s afraid to label. “You are the brightest person I know, in more ways than one.” 

She watches the softness in Ben’s eyes shift to something familiarly smug. “Besides myself, obviously.”

She playfully punches him in the arm and notices he’s smiling dopily at her. There’s an unfamiliar fondness to his smile, but Devi finds she likes it. “Nah, I’m definitely more brilliant than you.” Devi quips, trying to ignore the tenderness in his eyes, the way it makes her pulse race.

Ben doesn’t even dignify her taunt with a response, simply laughs and flashes her a familiar million watt grin, the one that makes the blue of his eyes gleam, the one that makes her stomach and heart feel like a horde of gazelles are stampeding through it.

He takes her home—because of course the dick would have his car fitted for her, he’s annoyingly caring like that—and drops her off right on time. 

And it’s stupid, she thinks replaying this moment in her head when she’s back at home, alone in her room. The emotions swimming in Ben’s eyes that she couldn’t quite name, the way he brushed back a loose strand of her hair and his warm hand lingered on her jaw, the way he smiled and laughed with her and teased her the same way he always does.

(The whole time, though, he never stopped taking care of her, and even further back, beyond her father’s death, back to her earliest memories of him, Devi cannot think of when Ben hasn’t taken care of her.) 

Since she lost her father, Devi has begun to appreciate the constants in her life. The endless support of her friends—Eleanor’s dramatic flare and Fabiola’s quiet intuition—her relationship with her mother, and Ben. She’s always known Ben has been a constant in her life, but it’s only replaying that moment in her mind that she realizes how _much_. 

It’s as though her relationship with Ben is a multi-step reaction mechanism, the countless days, countless hours they’ve spent together the elementary steps—individual molecular collision events—of a larger process. And this moment—him caring for her and comforting her and being softer than she’s ever seen him—is what pushes her over the activation energy barrier that is her denial. This moment is the catalyst.

It’s so horrifically, terribly stupid that this is moment she starts—or maybe she’s felt this way all along and is only now choosing to acknowledge it—falling for Ben Gross.

* * *

Ben walks into the first day of school, not expecting anything different. He hasn’t seen Devi for the past week, having just gotten back from the annual family trip (yeah, family, if you can call him, his distracted father, and his absentee mother a family) to Greece. He came home last night and collapsed right into bed, exhausted and wanting the bliss of sleep as soon as possible. 

He looks down at the schedule in his hands, heads to his locker, and opens his phone, scrolling through his text thread with Devi to pull the picture of her schedule up to compare it with his. 

Unsurprisingly, they share the majority of their classes, with the exception of band and orchestra, which are held at the same time in different rooms. 

Ben tucks his phone back into his pocket and opens his locker, pulling some of his textbooks out and dropping them into his backpack before spinning the lock shut and slinging his bag over his shoulder. 

He bounces on his heels, unsure if he should wait for Devi, as they have first period history with Mr. Shapiro together. 

For a moment, he wonders if he should have stopped by her place earlier this morning to see if she needed help with anything. He knows it was hard for her to face the fact that she was still in a wheelchair starting sophomore year, but they were all there for her. 

If Ben thought the helplessness he felt when Devi lost her father was overwhelming, watching his best friend be unable to walk for months with no idea why was even worse. 

Rubbing his hand over his face, he pulls his phone out of his pocket when it buzzes, seeing it’s a text from Devi. 

**Devi:** Look up. 

Ben furrows his brows. What the fuck? 

He looks up and nearly drops his phone. 

Smirking, she stands—she’s fucking _standing,_ on her own two feet—no more than three feet away from him. People glance at her in the hallway before turning back to their own business, clearly surprised she’s out of her wheelchair as well. 

He shoves his phone into his pocket and steps towards her. “Devi,” he breathes. 

She rolls her eyes. “You’ve seen me a billion times before, Gross. Don’t be so dramatic.” 

The tension snaps, and then he’s not sure who moves first or faster or even who reaches the other first, only that they collide, like two celestial bodies on the same orbit, smashing into one another. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes, wrapping his arms around her as tight as he can. “Holy shit, you’re walking.” 

He pulls her up, lifts her clear off her feet, and she shrieks, holding onto him. “Ben!” 

“Oh my god, Devi,” he laughs. “You’re walking!” 

Devi buries her face into his neck. “Learned how to do that years ago, Ben.” 

“You forgot for the past few months, David,” he murmurs, tightening his arms around her.

Devi gasps, laughing. “Ben, Ben, I can’t breathe.” 

“Don’t care,” he says. “Suck it up.” 

“Trying to eliminate the competition for valedictorian already? Don’t worry, Gross, you’re not even a contender.” 

Ben chuckles as he finally sets her back down on the ground, resisting the urge to brush back her hair and cup her face. 

(That’s a little _too_ close to comfort for him. Besides, he’s over Devi. He only liked her because she’s his best friend, the first and only girl he ever kissed.) 

There’s nothing there. 

Ben pushes those thoughts out of his mind and smiles at her. “When—when the fuck did you—” 

“Get out of the chair?” she smirks. “Two days after you left for Santorini.” 

Ben gapes at her. “You’ve been out of the chair for almost a week? David, why didn’t you tell me?” 

Devi blushes then, pink blooming high in her cheeks. “I wanted to surprise you,” she says softly. 

“You certainly did that. So, did they figure out what was wrong with you?” 

She shakes her head, frowning. “No clue. I just—” 

Devi breaks off suddenly, looking at something behind Ben, her expression morphing into one he’s never, ever seen before. 

It’s desire, he thinks, some sort of infatuation, a look she’s never directed at him, and Ben swivels around to see who she’s looking at. 

Paxton Hall-Yoshida. 

“I just looked at him,” she sighs, voice suddenly high and breathy, like she’s about to faint. 

A massive rock the size of an asteroid suddenly takes up residence in Ben’s throat, and he finds it nearly impossible to swallow. “You—you what?” he stammers out. 

“I was just at the grocery store with my mom, and I saw Paxton and his friends out front, laughing, so I tried to look a little closer at him, and then suddenly, I was walking.” 

Ben spares her a glance, ignoring how every word she says cuts a little deeper into his heart. “Really?” 

Devi nods, turning to him, eyes shining bright. “He cured me, Ben. Paxton cured me.” 

She brushes past him and walks to her locker, and Ben feels something hot and dark erupt in his stomach, something almost primal. 

_Paxton_ cured her? He made her walk again? That doesn’t make any biomedical sense! That’s not how the muscles and limbs work!

Ben leans against his locker, looking at her. “I don’t really think that’s how medicine works, David,” he smirks. 

Devi sighs, eyes tracing over Paxton’s face as he chats with one of his friends. Ben’s hand shakes, and bile rises up in the back of his throat. 

What the hell is _wrong_ with him? 

“He’s amazing, Ben,” she breathes. “He saved me. He fixed me.” 

She’s never talked about _him_ like that before. Not with that degree of adoration or passion, never looked at him with so much naked want in her eyes. She has never seemed to crave him as much. 

(Why would she? He’s not like Paxton. Ben has—no qualms about how he looks. He can’t give Devi what she so clearly wants. He doesn’t deserve her, anyways. She’s way too good for him, deserving of so much more than a guy who couldn’t even dance with her properly.) 

Ben pushes himself off the lockers and runs a hand through his hair. What the _fuck_ is he feeling? Why does he want to reach into his chest to try and stop his heart from ripping open? Why does he want to pull her into his arms and beg her to stay? 

Devi is not his. She never has been, and she never will be. He doesn’t _want_ her to be anyone else’s but hers. 

But some sick feeling rises up in the pit of his stomach as she continues to stare at Paxton, poorly hidden adoration marring her face. 

Ben follows Devi into class, and he can’t help but feel even sicker at the look that crosses her face when Paxton walks in. He clutches his pencil a little tighter, trying not to break it. 

Is he—is he _jealous?_

What is there to be jealous about? There’s nothing between him and Devi, nothing at all. He’s known that for ten years, has known that ever since he met her on the first day of kindergarten. They are best friends, partners, and equals, in every way that really, truly matters. 

They’re nothing _more._

(It doesn’t matter what he—what he thought he wanted in ninth grade, a few months ago. It doesn’t matter, because it’s never going to happen, and he’s accepted that, processed it.) 

So the vicious feeling swirling in his stomach—ugly, like it’s poisoning him from the inside out—it can’t be jealousy. It can’t. 

So why is it? 

He looks back at her, and hates himself. A smile has crossed her face, dreamy, as she looks at Paxton, chin propped up on her hand. She looks almost—almost blissful, in a way. 

(Part of him aches for her to look at him like that, but then he looks at his pale, pale hands, doesn’t even have to think about what he saw in the mirror when he woke up this morning and it’s far too easy for him to realize that she never will look at him in that way. It’s just a lot harder to _accept_ it.) 

He loves Devi, not like—like _that,_ but he does love her. She’s his best friend, and he wants her to be happy more than anything in the world, more than even his own happiness. He wants whatever makes her happy. 

It’s just—it’s _Paxton?_ The guy who goes through every girl in the school unapologetically, without batting an eye? That kid? 

Ben tears his gaze away from her, shaking his head and looking back at his paper, hand shaking as he tries to write his name at the top of it. 

Jealousy is a disgusting, horrible emotion, and Ben hates himself for feeling it. He has absolutely _no_ claim over Devi, nothing to say she’s his. Nobody in the _world_ does, but she. He can’t make her choices for her. He’s pissed at himself for feeling like this. 

Especially when there’s not even a reason to, because he’s _over_ her. He is. 

If Paxton makes her happy, then it’s ok with him. 

Even if it feels like his heart is being torn out of his chest. 

* * *

Devi can’t believe she’s here right now.

She’s standing in Paxton Hall-Yoshida’s garage, about to have sex with him.

She’s about to lose her virginity to the hottest boy in SoCal, the one who just _looking_ at made her walk again.

It’s everything she’s wanted all summer, or it should be everything she’s wanted, but she can’t help it, she feels nothing but nervous. Not the good type of giddy, excited nerves, just pure, unadulterated anxiety. Losing her virginity is a big deal, especially because she’s about to lose it to a guy she doesn’t know at all.

Does she really want to do this? Is she ready for this?

 _(No,_ a tiny voice sounds in her head, but she promptly ignores it.)

“Let’s do this,” Paxton says, head cocked to the side, the gesture performative.

“Right now?” Devi yelps out. She’s getting less and less sure of herself by the second. 

(This is a mistake, this is a mistake, this is a mistake.)

“Yeah,” Paxton answers with a noncommittal shrug. It’s alarming how little he seems to care, how nonchalant he feels.

In a singular fluid motion, Paxton takes off his shirt, leaving Devi ogling his bare chest. She feels her heart rate speed up, adrenaline coursing through her veins as Paxton takes her hand and presses it against his chest. 

All she can do is stare at him agape. She can’t even bring herself to meet his eyes, she just feels unfairly nervous.

“Uh, are you good?”

Devi snaps her head up, finally forcing herself to look Paxton in the eyes. 

“Yup! Yup!”

He narrows his eyes in slight suspicion, but Devi ignores it.

She spreads her hand over his chest, trailing her palm over his defined, godlike abs, trying to convince herself that this is still everything she wants. Because it is, right?

(It’s not, it’s not, it’s not.)

“Uh, do you need a drink? Like some water or something?”

Devi swallows nervously. “Nope! I’m so good!” She drawls out the o in ‘so’ for an unnaturally long time.

She continues to flex her fingers over his chest, trying to calm her racing nerves.

She feels Paxton’s hand curl around hers, prying her hand off his chest. When he finally releases his hold, she drops her hand to her side.

“You’re really not into this, are you?”

Devi barks out a nervous laugh. “Sorry?”

There’s an unfamiliar genuine sincerity in his tone. “I can tell this isn’t what you want.”

“It is!” Devi protests.

Paxton shakes his head and bends down to lift his shirt up off the ground, tossing it back over his head as fluidly as he stripped it off. It’s strange, but once he’s finally wearing a shirt again, she feels she can finally properly breathe.

(It’s not in the same, heart stopping way she had lost her breath the summer before freshman year with Ben, the way her entire body had felt on fire. This is just—overwhelming.)

Paxton takes a seat on the couch, patting the spot next to him. “It’s okay, I’m used to it.”

Devi sits down on the couch next to him. “You are?”

“Yeah, lots of girls have done it before.”

Devi glances down at her feet, feeling slightly defeated as she flops ungracefully back on the couch. “Oh.”

An awkward beat of silence passes between them and Devi can’t help but notice how different this feels than the typical moments of silence that elapse when she’s with Ben. Silent moments between her and Ben are calming and serene, whereas the silence currently stretching on between her and Paxton can only be described as stifling.

She has to break it.

"I just," she starts, unsure of what to say, but needing to say _something,_ "I just wanted to forget a bit." 

Paxton nods, shaking his head. "Look, Devi, I'm all for sex, but—and this is according to my sister—you can't use it to cope with your problems." 

Devi keeps her gaze turned to the floor. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "It was dumb, I know. Even my friend Eleanor said so." 

Paxton scratches the back of his neck. "Eleanor? The tiny Asian chick?" His voice is slightly strangled, and when Devi looks up, she's greeted with a sight she's never seen before; Paxton, blushing. 

She raises her eyebrows and files this information away for later. "Yeah, her," she says. "Told me sex wasn't a great way to work through issues." 

"She's not wrong," Paxton says. "I mean, I'm a hypocrite for saying that, though, there are plenty of times where I've done just that. Trent calls me an idiot for it too." 

Devi gives him a shaky smile.

Another beat of silence passes, just as awkward, but this time, Paxton is the one to break it. "So.....can I help?" 

Her eyes bug. "What?" 

He shrugs. "I have a sister. I'm kinda the boss at helping girls work through guy problems, even if I never wanna even _think_ about my sister dating."

“Guy problems?” Devi wrinkles her nose. “How do you know it’s guy problems?” 

Paxton waves his hand indifferently. “Like I said, I have a sister. Judging by the way you were like, a galaxy away or something right now—which usually doesn’t happen when someone’s about to sleep with me—I’m guessing it was guy problems.” 

“Oh.” 

He’s not _wrong._ She can’t stop thinking about Ben, about how it had felt when his arms—impossibly strong and sure—had wrapped around her in the hallway, how he had lifted her off her feet with joy. It was like something out of one of her favorite trashy romance novels—but even better, because it had come from Ben and had been _genuine._ She wants his arms around her like that even more. 

She’d come to Paxton—in part—because she was hoping her feelings for Ben were some sort of ridiculous attachment to him, for being her best friend for ten years, now. After all, science postulates more than one sample must be taken to prove accurate results, right? 

So she’d gone after Paxton, who _was_ hot, no doubt about it, to see if that’s all her feelings for Ben were, nothing more than misattributing certain feelings and mislabeling other ones. She’d fully expected to come out of this encounter over him, to stop thinking about him.

(But instead all she does is ache for him more, is even more sure he is the only person she wants, and that’s terrifying. It’s not what she expected, but it _is_ what she wants.) 

And she’d failed. All she can see when she shuts her eyes is the bottle blue of his own. 

But she—can’t exactly tell Paxton this, even if he’s proving to be a lot more sincere than she thought. 

“I don’t think you can,” Devi says, shaking her head. “But it’s nice to have someone to talk to.” She offers Paxton a small smile. “Thanks.”

Paxton nods. “Yeah, sure.”

She then recalls something she filed away earlier during their conversation and raises an eyebrow at him. “So, Eleanor, huh?” She bats her eyelashes in a mockingly seductive manner.

She’s again greeted by the unfamiliar sight of Paxton Hall-Yoshida with rosy pink cheeks, making him look almost identical to the blushing emoji. It makes him look younger, and a bit cuter. 

She watches Paxton duck his head, the action almost bashful. “Eleanor,” he repeats, tone sounding—if such a thing is possible—slightly dreamy.

“I get it,” Devi continues. “I mean, she’s amazing.”

The pink coloring of Paxton's face remains constant. “She is.”

“I could introduce you to her if you’d like,” Devi offers, a smug smile beginning to cross her face.

“Yeah,” Paxton agrees, “That’d be cool.”

She grins at him, unexpectedly pleased at getting to see this softer side of Paxton. 

She may not have gotten what she expected from him, but Devi thinks she prefers friendship, over a rash, impulsive decision she’d regret any day.

* * *

Devi calls him in hysterics, and it’s easily one of the worst moments of his life. 

Ben picks up the phone expecting it to be an easy chat, expecting Devi to be hammering him about some homework assignment or another, a club meeting that conflicts with their schedules, _something_ other than what it is. 

Instead, he can barely hear her as she rants and rages. 

“Devi, repeat that?” he says, clutching his phone a bit tighter. 

“Fucking….I can’t….hate her…” is all that comes over the phone. 

“Devi, Devi!” Ben pushes. “What the hell is going on?”

“I can’t live here anymore, Ben!” Devi shouts, and he jerks the phone away from his ear. “Please, can I crash at your place?” 

“Y—yeah, of course, Devi,” he stammers out. “You’re always welcome here, you know that. But what happened?” 

“I’m not getting into it,” she snaps, and then, the phone cuts. 

Ben stares at a blank phone screen, immediately hitting the redial button, but it goes to voicemail. “Fuck,” he swears, flying down the stairs and grabbing the keys to one of his dad’s cars.

He’s only got a permit, but he’s not taking any major highways and he knows the way to Devi’s house like the back of his hand. 

Resisting the urge to drive like a maniac, because dying in a fiery car crash on the way to her house would not be beneficial for the both of them, Ben gets there as fast as he can. She barely lives five minutes from him anyway, so it’s not that difficult. 

When he pulls up in front of his house, Devi is standing outside, a duffle bag at her feet, bouncing up and down on her heels. Strangely, Nalini is nowhere to be found. 

“Hey,” he says, pulling up. 

She looks up from her phone and her eyes widen. “Ben? I thought—what are you doing here? I was just gonna call an Uber.” 

He shrugs. “You don’t live that far. Get in. We can talk.” 

She looks back at the house, and, for a split second, visceral sorrow flashes over her face. 

Fuck, she’s making _such_ a bad decision, and he’s going to watch her do it. 

Devi turns back to him and throws her things in the backseat of his car, climbing into the passenger seat and buckling her seatbelt. 

Ben doesn’t spare the house a second glance as he drives away, keeping all his attention focused on the road. 

How could Devi just—throw what she had away? Her mother came home and ate dinner with her, her cousin took care of her, she had a _family._

He aches for that, and here she is, getting rid of it. 

(He loves Devi, he does, but that has always been something she has taken for granted, and it bothers him when a family has never been something he _has.)_

They drive to his place in silence, and Ben turns off the engine once they pull into the driveway. 

“Come on,” he says quietly. “I’ll show you where you’re staying.” 

He grabs Devi’s bag without another word and drops it in the Doobie Brothers-themed bedroom. “You can stay here,” he says. 

He exits the room and heads down the stairs, his mind wrapped up in what had just happened. 

Ben has always liked Nalini. A bit strict for his tastes, and he’s definitely biased when it comes to picking sides, since Devi is his best friend, but she’s a nice woman. A kind, and caring one, a bit too strong at times, if possible, but a good woman. He can’t imagine the pain she’s going through right now, losing her husband and now her daughter. 

But he knows that Mohan’s death broke something between Devi and her mother, and that it hasn’t been fixed yet. No one else but them can fix it, but he doesn’t need to help it stay broken. 

He hears footsteps behind him and turns around to see Devi standing in front of him, her hands in her pockets. “Thanks for letting me crash here,” she says quietly. 

Ben sighs, running his hand down his face. “I meant what I said, Devi. You’re always welcome here.” 

She scans him, suspicion swirling in her eyes. “What?” 

“What do you mean, what, David?” 

“You’ve got that look in your eyes, like you want to ask me something but you’re not sure what. Come on, Gross, spill.” 

“Why did you leave?” he asks. He can’t imagine anything that would make him want to leave home so much—that is, if he had parents who stuck around. 

Devi’s face darkens. “My mother. We had a big fight.” 

As far as Ben’s concerned, this isn’t big news. Nalini and Devi have clashed with one another for as long as he can remember, so this isn’t news to him. It’s not anything _new,_ really. 

But this is a fight of mammoth proportions, clearly, if Devi can’t even live in her house anymore. Still, he doesn’t get it. Why don’t they just _talk?_

“You can’t—you can’t patch things up?” 

Devi’s face drops from irritated to furious. “Obviously not!” she snaps. “God, don’t be a fucking idiot, Ben.” 

He glares at her. “I’m not. I just don’t get why you two can’t patch things up.” 

“She’s a bitch, that’s why!” Devi yells, flinging her hands up in the air. “She’s a bitch who doesn’t love me and doesn’t know how to handle me.” 

“Devi, you know that’s not true! I know things between you and you might be strained, but you can’t just leave her behind!” he shouts back, stepping a bit closer to her. 

Devi seethes, anger marring her face, “You don’t know anything about what’s going on between me and my mother, Ben. You have _no right_ butting into our conversation.” 

“Ok, ok,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “That’s fair, I’m sorry. But Devi, you’re not helping anything by running. You’re leaving your family behind.” 

“At least I have a family to leave behind!” 

(Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me. What complete and utter bullshit.) 

Ben steps back from Devi, and he has never, never done this. Never run away from her instead of to her. “Right,” he says quietly. “You’re right about that.” 

The worst part of this is not how horror crosses her face and how it crumples, the weight of what she’s just said settling on her. The worst part of this is not how she steps forward and flinches when he steps back. The worst part of this is not any of that. 

The worst part of this is that everything she said is true. 

“Ben,” she breathes. “Ben, I’m so s—” 

He holds up a hand, cutting her off. “I just—I need some time to myself, Devi,” he says quietly. “Please.” 

Ben is good at retreating into himself, good at shoving down his feelings and keeping them hidden from the world. It is one of the few things he and Devi do not have in common. He is good at closing himself off from the world, while she cannot help but leave her doors wide open. 

He turns on his heel to go up to his room, ignoring the look on her face. 

It hurts, what she’d said. He knows she didn’t mean it, not in the way it came out, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less, and it hurts all the more because Devi, more than _anyone else_ in the world, knows how true it is. 

He paces around his room for about an hour, unable to rest, completely wound up and wrapped up in his emotions. He can’t work through any of it, any of _them,_ so he looks to the one place he has always been able to find peace and comfort: the stars. 

The sun is just setting when he steps outside, purple sky bleeding and darkening away. The stars haven’t quite shown up yet, but just looking at the sky comforts him. 

He turns his head and spots a lone figure, sitting cross-legged on the ground by the pool. Devi. 

Ben swallows roughly, running his hand down his jeans. “Sorry,” he says. 

Devi closes her eyes, not even turning her head to face him. “Please sit,” she whispers. 

Oh. Well, he wasn’t expecting that. 

Ben takes a seat next to Devi, cross-legged. She leans back on her hands, head tipping up towards the sky. “I’m sorry for what I said,” she murmurs, turning to look at him. 

Her eyes shine as bright as Polaris, as Sirius, as a thousand other astronomical bodies he could name. He thinks she must have plucked two stars out of the sky to get them to shine so bright. 

Ben nods. “I’m sorry for what I said.” 

She laughs bitterly. “What did you say that was so horrible?” 

“I shouldn’t have gotten in between you and your mom. That’s your private business.” 

Devi reaches over and covers his hand with hers. “You shouldn’t have,” she agrees, “but you’re also my best friend, so, I think I can forgive you just this once.” 

He bursts out laughing. “I’m touched.” 

“You have one get-out-of-jail free card, Gross, and you just used that up. Better tread lightly from now on.” 

Ben smiles softly at her. “I know.” 

“I’m joking, by the way,” she murmurs. “I was way worse to you for what I said about your mom and dad.” 

He smiles bitterly. “How bad can it be if it’s true?”

Devi reaches out and cups his jaw, scoring her thumb over his cheek. “It shouldn’t be true,” she whispers. “You deserve so much better.” 

The question is on the tip of his tongue. _Do I deserve you?_ And yet, he already knows the answer. 

(No. He’s never deserved her, not through crushed red velvet dresses and pink shoes, not through pink lemonade and chocolate chip cookies, not through the countless hours they have spent together and all the times they have sat right here, looking up at the stars, searching for answers they may never find. He’s never deserved her, but that doesn’t make him want her any less.)

“I don’t,” he murmurs back. 

Her jaw clenches, eyes hardening. “You do. God, Ben, you’re my best friend in the entire world. You deserve so, _so_ much better.” 

Ben reaches up and curls his hand around her wrist. “Thank you.” 

Devi breathes, looks up at the sky. “I’m sorry for just—asking you to stay, without any warning.” She closes her eyes, breathing in, and with a shock, Ben realizes she’s holding back tears. “I just—told my mother I wish she was the one who had died.” 

Ben’s stomach drops into his feet. “Oh, Devi.” 

She lets her head fall into her hands, shoulders shaking. “I don’t even know if she loves me. She definitely doesn’t, after that.” 

Ben reaches over and pulls her into him, runs his hand down her back. “Devi,” he says again, trying to soothe her. 

It feels far too similar to a scene just a few months ago for Ben to not ache in the same way, but like before, this is something he can’t fix. 

It’s just something he has to live with. The only thing he can do is hold her. 

* * *

It's one am, and Devi's lying on top of the covers in her room—well, her room in Ben's house—unable to fall asleep. 

She doesn't know why she's surprised, really. For all of the nights she's been living with Ben, she hasn't been able to fall asleep on her own. Her mind is a relentless whirlpool, spinning, repeating, replaying the horrible, horrible fight she had with her mother. 

When she gets lost in her own mind like this, there's one person she turns to for comfort. It's an instinct now, beyond a need, a primal action encoded into her DNA, to seek him out.

She steps out of the Doobie Brothers themed guest room, walks down the narrow winding hallway, and doesn’t even knock—she just pushes open the door to Ben’s room.

He’s lying awake on his bed, the room completely obscured by darkness spare for the tiny glow from the light clipped onto his book as he reads.

“Ben,” she whispers, hoping to catch his attention.

Upon hearing her, he places down his book, and, upon seeing the looking on her face, swings his legs off the bed and walks towards her, so he can take her into his arms. The motion is natural, fluid, something they’ve done countless times before, and the moment Ben’s arms are around her, Devi melts into his embrace. She buries her nose in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of sandalwood and something uniquely Ben, as his arms wind tightly around her back. Pressed this close together, she can feel the steady, soothing drum of his heartbeat against her own.

Ben's arms have been her safe harbor, even before her father, before almost everything in her life. He has always been her lighthouse in a storm, her anchor in a hurricane. He is her constant.

Eventually, Ben pulls back only to lean in again and press a feather-light kiss to her forehead. It’s like a whisper, barely present, almost imperceptible, but it comforts Devi all the same. “Can’t sleep?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Devi says with a slightly jerky nod.

Ben sighs, then wraps an arm around her shoulder, leading her over to his bed. They both sit, his arm still wrapped around her as he traces a pattern on her arm.

An easy calming silence passes between the two of them, Devi eventually pressing closer into Ben’s side and resting her head on his chest, as he tightens his hold around her. “Can you believe we’ve known each other for ten years?”

She doesn’t look up at Ben, so she can’t see his face, but his tone is shocked. “Ten years?”

“Yeah,” Devi says. “You’ve been my best friend for ten years.” She sighs into his chest, lets her limbs loosen up so she can melt into him. 

Ben hums. “We have a lot of memories together.”

“We do,” Devi agrees, burrowing her head deeper into his chest.

“Remember the time that you gave me coal in my christmas stocking?”

Devi snorts and rolls her eyes. "You're Jewish. You shouldn't have cared."

"That's cold, David," Ben responds, but his tone is full of mirth.

“Do you remember that time you gave me your mittens at recess in third grade when I left mine at home?” Devi sleepily murmurs as she reaches to take Ben’s free hand.

(His hand has always fit in hers, even when they were exchanging juice boxes on the playground.)

She can’t fully see Ben’s expression due to the lighting and because her head is resting on his chest, but she’s pretty sure from his tone that he’s pouting. “My fingers were stiff and red for the rest of the day and look at the thanks I got!”

Devi pokes her head up. “Well, you got to be friends with me, so I’d say that’s a pretty good form of thanks.”

“Devi, being friends with you just meant you stole my dessert right out of my lunchbox everyday.”

Devi sticks out her bottom lip. “You can’t blame me, they were good desserts.”

Ben intertwines their fingers. “Yeah,” he agrees, his voice a gentle lull. “Yeah.” His thumb strokes the back of her hand, while the arm wrapped around her shoulders rubs up and down her arm, and the motion is so hypnotic, so soothing, she feels her eyes get heavy. 

“Remember when we partnered up for the science fair in 8th grade, did that experiment on electrical currents, and ended up smashing like six lightbulbs in my room?”

Ben hums. “Yeah, I remember that too.”

“How much do you remember?” Devi asks, slightly incredulous.

He squeezes her hand. “Everything.”

There’s a moment of peaceful silence between them before Ben speaks again.

“I even remember what you were wearing when we first met.”

Devi peers up at him, raising her head to look him in the eyes. Her voice comes out a little squeaky. “You do?”

He traces a circle on her arm. “You were wearing a pink and purple dress,” he laughs, and because Devi is pressed so close to him, she can feel the sound in his chest. It reverberates in her own. “And I hated you on sight.”

Devi snorts. “Well, I’m not surprised you eventually came to your senses and fell for my boundless charm.”

Ben laughs again, the sound ringing joyfully out into the air, and she decides his laugh is her favorite sound in the whole world. “Well, tell me, what did you think of me when we first met, hmm?”

Devi tilts her head. “I think I was mostly annoyed that you kept answering questions in class before I could.”

“We never would have become friends if that teacher hadn’t forced us to work together.” He taps his pointer finger rhythmically against each of her knuckles. “That was when I first realized that your intelligence was so close in proximity to my own.”

Devi nudges him. “Are you finally admitting that my intelligence exceeds yours, Gross?”

“I was more saying mine exceeds yours, David.”

Devi can’t help it, she laughs, burying her head in Ben’s chest to muffle the sound. Her free hand moves down to trace circles on his knee, absently. “It’s crazy,” she starts, when she’s finally looking up at him again. “We could have easily ended up hating each other.”

“We could have,” Ben agrees, his hand moving to stroke her hair soothingly. “And I don’t think I can imagine anything worse.”

Here, wrapped in his arms, there is some sort of peace that settles into her body, the dust storm that finally quiets after being kicked up in the wake of her father’s death. That’s the thing about Ben, he energizes and settles her all at once. She is both sand and a mountain, and he is the wind, both dancing around her and whisking her up.

Devi tips her head up to face Ben more fully. 

For a brief moment, she lets her eyes drift down to his mouth, realizing it would be _so_ easy to angle herself properly so their lips fit together perfectly. He's still the only boy she's ever kissed, and yet—she wants to kiss him better than when they were 13 and naive. Better than during freshman year on Halloween when they were roped into playing spin the bottle. Both times were awkward, so beautifully, painfully awkward, but his lips were soft and warm. She craves to feel that softness again.

Devi wonders if it truly would be so bad if she leaned in and kissed him, trailed her hand down his chest like she has wanted to for _years_ and wrapped her arms around his waist. There is no doubt in her mind that Ben would be a good kisser. It would be a crime to give him such soft lips and make him a bad kisser. 

And he’s always been there for her. Always. She wants this—this moment forever, to be wrapped in his arms, with his voice in her ear. She wants it more than anything else. She wants him more than anything else.

She lets her eyes flicker shut and starts to lean in when Ben’s sleep roughened voice pulls her out of her thoughts. 

“You know you’re my best friend,” he pauses for a beat. “Right?”

Ben ducks down and presses another kiss to her forehead, a little firmer this time, and Devi leans into it, letting her eyes flutter shut. Her heart pounds, the staccato thump of his name. 

Devi pulls herself back and smiles softly at him, regretful, yet also a little thankful he stopped her from making what could have a terribly dumb decision. “You’re my best friend too.”

(And he is. Ben is her best friend in the world, and Devi wants to smack herself for even _considering_ throwing that away, for a split second. For what, a kiss? She would throw a decade of friendship away for a kiss? Ridiculous. Ben is steadier than the moon, steadier than the ocean tides. She can’t—won’t lose that. No matter how much she might ache for him.)

Ben releases her, and for a split second Devi feels guilt pool in her stomach. Maybe that wasn’t what she was supposed to say?

Her worries dissipate when Ben lays down and pats the space on the bed next to him. Devi takes the empty space and immediately tucks herself into his arms, wrapping her arms around his frame, nuzzling her head into his chest.

She feels Ben press a kiss into her hair and tightens her hold around him. 

It’s wrapped in his arms, as always, that she is finally able to fall asleep.

When she wakes up the next morning, Ben is still holding her and their legs are tangled together. Her nose is tucked into his neck, brushing the underside of his jaw, and his arm is securely wrapped around her waist, hand flat on her stomach. It’s like they’re two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together, that belong together. She supposes that’s not only an apt way of describing their bodies, but the interconnectedness of their lives too.

He’s still asleep, breathing softly and he looks more peaceful and calm than she’s ever seen him. She trails her hand down his cheek, relishing in the feeling of his soft, soft skin underneath her palm.

Her only regret is in sleep she can’t see the kaleidoscopic beauty of his eyes. She can’t drown in the vividness of their blue.

She regrets that can’t watch his face spread into the grin she knows with absolute certainty that she loves. _Loves._

Oh shit, she’s in love with her best friend.

* * *

He wonders if this is going to become a pattern, finding himself cornered by Devi’s friends after he kisses her. 

(He hopes not. Cause—on the off, off, _off_ chance that he might be so lucky to kiss her again—that’s a lot of cornering they’re going to have to do.) 

Fabiola texts him three days after Malibu. It’s early, and he and Fabiola are both the early risers of their group as opposed to Devi and Eleanor, who love sleeping in as much as possible. She asks if he wants to meet for coffee before school, and it’s something he’s done with her before, so he doesn’t think much of it. 

He arrives first, ordering their drinks and grabbing them a table before Fabiola arrives. 

Ben traces a finger around the rim of his coffee cup, over and over again, thinking about it. 

Thinks about the way her hand had pressed against his chest as she kissed him. Thinks about the way she had tasted, a bit salty, from her tears, and like cherries, from her chapstick. Thinks about the way her hair (her hair, her dark, glossy, beautiful hair) had felt impossibly soft under his hands. Thinks about the way she had kissed him, like she couldn’t stop. 

But she had pulled away, and she had run. 

It’s an odd feeling, he thinks, not chasing after Devi, not talking to her. His text thread with her, which usually never goes quiet for more than 2 hours at a time, has been silent for the past three days. 

Ben’s pulled out of his thoughts by Fabiola taking the seat across from him. He gives her a tired smile. “Hey, Fab.” 

Fabiola reaches over and pulls her macchiato out of the carton. “Ben,” she says, taking a sip. 

“How’s it going?” 

She tilts her head, looking at him. There’s something incredibly calming about Fabiola, something steadying about her. Opposite to Devi and Eleanor’s energy, is Fabiola. She balances them out. 

“Are you ok?” she asks softly. 

He startles. Ok, look, he _knows_ he’s not that good at hiding his feelings, he knows that, but he hasn’t been _too_ obvious about it. 

Has he?

“What—what are you talking about?” 

She smiles bitterly. “I’m not an idiot, Ben. Something happened between you and Devi at Malibu. You guys haven’t talked for like, three days. You know how weird that is for you two.” 

Ben leans back in his seat, trying not to slump too much. Devi had refused to listen to them, to any of them, about their efforts to get her to go to Malibu. It was only when he, Eleanor, and Fabiola had all sat her down and talked to her that they had managed to convince her to go. 

And Ben, well, he’s never been able to resist being there for Devi when she needs him, and so he had taken her to Malibu, and then, she had kissed him. 

(Had she meant it? Was it all just because of an emotional high? Did she even feel _anything_ for him?) 

He can’t lie to Fabiola. “She kissed me,” he murmurs. 

Fabiola just nods, taking a sip of her coffee. “Take your time. Keep going.” 

“And then I kissed her.” Ben swallows roughly, looking up at Fabiola. “I kissed her, and I destroyed our friendship.” 

Her face shifts from concerned to utterly confused. “What?” she breathes. “I’m—I’m sorry, what the _fuck?_ How did you destroy your friendship?” 

Ben rubs his hands over his face. “By kissing her. I took advantage of her, didn’t I? And now—now I can’t stop thinking about it, like some kind of disgusting creep, and I—” 

“Stop,” Fabiola says, holding her hand up. He shuts up instantly, noting the hard look in her eyes. 

“First of all, Ben, you’re not a disgusting creep. Emotional, hormonal, yeah, sure, but not a creep. She kissed you. You can’t stop thinking about it. That’s normal.” She shrugs. “I’m sure if Devi were here, she’d tell you about all of the hormones in your body that are making you feel this way.” 

“Testosterone, oxytocin, dopamine,” he mutters. 

“Or you could just tell me yourself,” she deadpans. 

For the first time in three days, Ben cracks a smile. “I could.” 

“Secondly.” Fabiola leans forward, dark eyes scanning him thoughtfully. “What makes you think you destroyed your friendship?” 

Ben raises an eyebrow. “Because she hasn’t talked to me in three days?” 

“Why haven’t you talked to her?”

(Because he needs to give her space. Devi reminds him of a wounded animal at times: if he moves too quickly or too close, he might scare her off, send her running in the opposite direction, and that’s never something he wants to do.) 

“She needs space, Fab. She just spread her dad’s ashes. She’s working on her and her mom’s relationship, right now. I don’t want to push her.” 

“Ok. Those are all fair reasons.” Fabiola taps her blunt nails on the table. “But you know there’s something else.” 

“I shouldn’t have acted on my feelings,” he admits. “I shouldn’t have. No matter how I feel. I’m going to lose her, now that I kissed her.” 

“How do you feel about her, Ben?” 

He looks down at his hands, which shake almost uncontrollably. “I’m in love with her.” 

(It is the first time he has admitted that, out loud. Saying the words, speaking them into the air, makes them feel a lot more real, realer than he thinks he wants them to be. It’s hard to think about it, hard to think about the fact that he’s in love with her. Not because it’s a hard _thing,_ no, loving Devi is the easiest thing he has ever done. Loving her comes more naturally to him than breathing, loving her is his base setting. It is homeostasis, for him, the natural state at which his body rests. Loving her is both combustion and equilibrium.) 

He feels Fabiola’s hand cover his. “You love her,” she affirms. 

“And she doesn’t love me back.” It’s a shitty thing for him to complain about. He’s not entitled to her feelings. He’s not entitled to _anything_ from her, just because he’s her best friend. He doesn’t want her to feel like she’s obligated to give him anything. 

And that, that is what haunts him. That the kiss was out of obligation. That she really didn’t _want_ to kiss him, she just needed a way to tell him thank you. 

Fabiola’s eyebrows scrunch up. “You think she doesn’t love you back?” 

Ben laughs bitterly, taking a sip of his coffee. It burns in the back of his throat, strong and bitter. Or maybe that’s just his tears. “I know so.” 

Fabiola slams her hand down on the table. “Did she tell you?” 

The force of her question jerks him backwards. “What?” 

“Did she tell you she doesn’t love you?” 

“N—no,” he manages to stammer out, but before he can say anything else, Fabiola barrels on. 

“Well then, how do you know she doesn’t love you?” 

Ben stares at her. “What?” he whispers. 

“How do you know that she’s not also in love with you?” 

This, more than anything else, is what shocks him. Cold heat spreads down his back, settles in his brain and freezes him. Because throughout all of this, he has never (save for that one, one time in freshman year, at winter formal) entertained the _notion_ that Devi might have feelings for him. Even the mere thought almost makes him want to laugh out loud. She could never. She’s never seen him in that way, has never loved him like that. 

Why would she?

“I just do.” 

Fabiola shakes her head. “First of all, you don’t get to decide what Devi is thinking, or feeling, without asking her. You don’t know for sure because you haven’t fucking talked to her about it.” 

“I’m not going to!” he snaps. “I’m giving her all the space she needs.” 

“Ben, you’re not looking at the facts.” 

He clenches his jaw. “The facts are this, Fabiola: I’m in love with Devi, she doesn’t love me back, and I ruined our friendship by kissing her.” 

Fabiola stares at him. “You want facts, Ben? Fine. Here are the facts.” Fabiola leans back in her chair, and holds up her hand, counting them off. “You make her laugh. She smiles more with you than anyone else. She loves talking to you. You guys spend all your time together. You kissed her—twice—and now you want to do it again. She always goes to you when she needs help with something. She loves spending time with you. You’re her first choice, her favorite person. She trusts you. She respects you—at times—and thinks you deserve better. She’s known you for the past ten years. She is your best friend. And she’s mine. And that’s how I know she’s in love with you.” 

It’s too much, everything he’s ever wanted to hear. But he can’t afford to get his hopes up. He can’t afford to hope that she feels something for him, because there’s—there’s still a chance she might not, and the heartbreak, he can survive that. But he can’t survive losing her, or her friendship. 

“There’s still the chance she’s not, Fab,” he murmurs. “And I can’t risk losing her.” 

“You think you would lose her if you told her?” 

He smiles bitterly. “I don’t know what to think anymore.” 

Fabiola looks at him, not with pity, but understanding. The kind of understanding that comes from years and knowing someone and spending your time with them. “Ok,” she says, finally conceding. “I understand.” 

He expects her to get up and leave, to walk away now that she has gotten what she has wanted from him. Why else would she stay?

But she doesn’t leave, simply settles back in her chair and takes a sip of coffee. He stares at her. “What are you doing?” 

Fabiola smiles, for the first time all morning, small but genuine. “I can spend time with a friend, can’t I?” 

“You wanna spend time with me?” 

“We don’t have to go to school for a bit. Is that ok with you?”

He finds himself smiling back. “Yeah, of course.” 

Devi might be his best friend, but she is most certainly not the only one he’s got, and he’s forever going to be grateful for that fact. 

* * *

Devi kissed her best friend a week ago at Malibu and she hasn’t talked to him since.

Because how could she? As far as she’s concerned, she’s just thrown ten years of friendship down the drain by impulsively kissing Ben.

It wasn’t just that she kissed him, the true source of Devi’s panic is what the kiss had _meant._ The strange unfamiliar feelings that it had stirred within her.

Because she’s kissed Ben before—a barely there peck on the lips, when they were both 13, never having kissed anyone, and at Halloween, a brush of lips against one another, and both were awkward, terribly awkward—but this—in his dad’s Porsche, his hands cradling her face like she was something precious, his lips slotting perfectly over hers, the Malibu skyline stretching cinematically behind them—was different.

And that—that is what scares the shit out of her.

She’s watching Ben at his locker again, trying to persuade herself to talk to him, to sort this out, but she can’t. She can’t risk losing him more than she already has. He’s her best friend in the entire world and he’s too important to her.

Ben hasn’t exactly approached her to try and talk about it either, so maybe, Devi convinces herself, just maybe there’s nothing to talk about.

(A little part of her knows he’s just doing what he always does, letting her come to him, giving her the space she needs, and putting her needs above his own. She kind of hates it, hates how kind and considerate and caring he is. Wishes just for once that he would act more selfishly. She wishes he could make the first move and initiate this conversation instead of her.)

She and Ben are like two electrons of the same spin. They are similar, compatible in innumerable ways, each other’s perfect complement, especially in their inability to properly process emotions. Atomic theory, however, dictates they cannot occupy the same space, and yet, however impossible it is, Devi wishes they could.

Her hand aches to hold his, and she wants so badly to go back to those moments at his house, wrapped in his arms, falling asleep next to him, breathing him in. She wants back that perfect peace that she broke. 

(But she can never _really_ regret kissing him, not when it had made every single disparate piece of her slot into place, a rightness she didn’t know was possible finding its way into her soul.)

He’s standing far away from her now, turned away, and it makes her heart break. She can’t see the beautiful, clear, stunning blue of his eyes. She can’t look into them and see them dancing with laughter, see them fill with emotion. 

Devi’s eyes trail down his face, to the cut of his jaw. Her fingers twitch, remembering what it was like to hold his face in her hands, to feel the softness of his skin under her palms. She wants to touch every single inch of his face, to burn him into her memory for the rest of her life, for her fingers on his face to be like muscle memory. 

Her gaze shifts to his mouth, and fuck, she can’t stop thinking about the way his lips had pressed against hers, soft, and yet, surprisingly talented, kissing her with intent. If Devi didn’t know for sure that she was the only person Ben had ever kissed, she would be jealous of how he had gotten to be such a good kisser. Almost of its own accord, her hand drifts up to her mouth and brushes against her lips. Fuck, she wants him to—

The clearing of a throat and a tap on her shoulder is what jerks Devi out of her thoughts.

She whips around and meets the steely, determined gaze of Eleanor. She places a hand on her hip. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Devi, but you’ve been acting weird for the past week. Fab and I are concerned.” 

“I’m not acting weird,” Devi protests, crossing her arms over her chest.

Eleanor completely ignores her. “My place. After school. We’re figuring this out.”

Devi opens her mouth to object, but something in Eleanor’s expression makes her shut it almost instantly.

So, that’s how she ends up sitting on the floor of Eleanor’s room, attempting to dodge her friend’s persistent questions.

Since they both have work to do, Devi manages to avoid answering Eleanor for a few hours, but as time ticks on, Devi becomes aware that Eleanor is getting more and more impatient. 

Eleanor eventually sighs in annoyance and fixes Devi with a pointed glare. “Devi, you have to tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong!” Devi protests, balling her hands into a fist.

Eleanor glances at her in concern. “We’re friends, Devi, you know you can talk to me.” She tilts her head to the side. “Did something happen between you and Ben?”

Devi feels her anxiety skyrocket. Her palms become clammy and her heart begins to thud against her chest. She wonders if Eleanor can sense her nervousness as she clasps her hands together in her lap. “W—why do you say that?”

Had Ben mentioned something to Eleanor? That seemed unlikely considering she and Ben still hadn’t talked about what happened, but maybe, maybe, maybe.

“He’s my friend too, Devi. The two of you haven’t talked in a week and you’ve seemed...” She pauses, tapping her chin as she searches for the right word. “Jumpy around him.” 

Eleanor leans in closer, eyebrows knit with concern. “Did something happen while you were living together?”

Devi doesn’t say anything, turning away, instead choosing to stare blankly ahead at a spot on the wall. 

She hears Eleanor gasp. “Wait, did you two kiss?”

When Devi doesn’t answer, Eleanor takes this as a confirmation and claps her hands together shrieking with excitement. “Oh my god, you totally did kiss!”

Eleanor reaches forward and grabs Devi’s shoulders, shaking her with excitement. “Oh, Devi! This is amazing! I always knew you two were going to end up together!” She swoons. “God, our very own best friends to lovers, it’s like straight out of one of my favorite rom-coms. Like, I don’t know, _13 Going on 30,_ or something.”

Devi continues to stare ahead blankly.

“Ohhhhh I get it now, you’ve been jumpy around one another because you’re trying to hide that you’re secretly dating.” She then places a comforting hand on Devi’s arm. “Devi, you know, there’s no reason to hide it, right? We were always going to accept your romance with Ben, we knew it was inevitable.”

Devi wonders how Eleanor could have misinterpreted the situation so badly and turns her gaze to the floor. 

“Werenottogether,” she mumbles.

Eleanor tosses her head back and forth. “What did you just say?”

“We’re not together!” Devi yells out, breathing heavily, finally looking back up at her friend.

Eleanor’s next response catches her off guard. “Well, why the hell not?”

“Excuse me?”

Eleanor wags a menacing finger at her. “I said,” she leans forward, eyes narrowed, and bites out the next words, “Why the hell not?”

Devi crosses her arms over her chest. “What the hell are you talking about, El?”

Eleanor lets out a sigh that’s a mixture between annoyed and weary. “Come on Devi, it’s obvious you’ve been in love with Ben and he’s been in love with you since eighth grade. Even longer, possibly.”

Devi’s mouth drops open at Eleanor’s words and she blinks rapidly, trying to formulate a response.

“Don’t even try and deny it, everyone knows what’s going on between you two, except, well, you two, apparently.” Eleanor laughs a smug smirk spreading across her face, “God, for the two smartest people in our grade, you guys really are so stupid.”

“What the hell are you talking about, El? I’m not in love with Ben and he’s certainly not in love with me!” Devi protests, but she feels flush climbing in her cheeks. “Y—you guys are just being ridiculous!”

(Except. Well, she _is_ in love with him. The only thing is that he’s not in love with her. She would know if he was. She knows Ben better than he knows himself, would know if he felt anything but friendly affection for her. There was once a time when she—she thought that might have been the case, but not anymore. He’s always seen her as a friend. Right?)

Eleanor’s expression shifts from smug satisfaction to genuine concern. She again places a comforting hand on Devi’s arm, rubbing up and down. “Even Paxton said you didn’t seem that interested in him after—you know—what happened between you two.”

Devi immediately seizes the opportunity to deflect and throw Eleanor off by changing the topic.

“So…” she drawls, wiggling her eyebrows. “You’ve been hanging out with Paxton, huh?”

She watches Eleanor’s face pinken. “We’re talking about you right now!”

Devi grins evilly and Eleanor pinches the bridge of her nose. “Look, we can talk about my love life later, right now, your situation with Ben takes precedent.”

“What situation with Ben?” Devi bites out, still firmly wedged in denial.

“The fact that you’re in love with him! Gosh, Devi, have you listened to a word I said?” Eleanor looks her up and down with concern again.

“I’m not in love with him!” Devi protests. “I kissed him one time—”

“Two times,” Eleanor interrupts, “That little peck when you were 13 counts.” She holds up a hand. “Wait, actually, three times, if the rumours I heard from that Halloween party in freshman year are true.”

“Fine,” Devi huffs. “Three times, but that doesn’t mean anything!”

The kiss—it didn't have to mean anything, right? She'd done it because—because he'd gotten her to Malibu, and he'd waited for her. Because he'd taken her in for a week when she couldn't bear to be at home with her mother, and he'd held her every single night until she fell asleep in the circle of his arms. She didn't kiss him because she had any real romantic feelings for him. The impulse and decision were the combination of hormones, and an emotional high. 

(Deep, deep down, Devi knows this isn't true. It's insulting to both her, and him to think that's the reason. There's something more behind it, something that if she chooses to examine, could change everything. That's why she hasn't approached him yet. If it was just hormones, and emotional high, it would be a lot easier to move past. But this, this is something that could truly _hurt_ her.)

Eleanor drums her fingers on her lap. “I mean, it could mean something.” She taps her temple. “Was it a good kiss?”

“Eleanor,” Devi breathes, annoyed that they’re still having this conversation.

“Was it?” Eleanor persists.

“Eleanor!”

“Devi.”

“Yes!” Devi yells out. “It was an amazing kiss, are you happy?”

Eleanor claps her hands together, a grin spreading across her face. “I knew it!”

“I—I mean—it was just that. It was fantastic, but fleeting. That doesn’t have to, you know, mean anything.”

Eleanor regards her with suspicion and shakes her head. “I think it did mean something, Devi, I just think you’re unwilling to admit what it is.”

Devi looks at her friend sadly and sighs, fiddling with her hands in her lap. “But what if it didn’t?” Her voice comes out quiet and small. “What if it didn’t mean anything for him?”

Because what if she misread and misinterpreted everything? What if Ben doesn’t see her the way she’s slowly starting to realize she might see him? What if he never has?

Eleanor snorts. “Well, you could always kiss him again, the way you both react to that could be pretty telling.”

It’s a pretty good suggestion, Devi realizes. If she kisses Ben again it might, just might, help her get a better understanding of her feelings, whatever they are.

She shoots up off of the floor and onto her feet. “Eleanor, you’re a genius!”

Eleanor looks up at her, brow furrowed in confusion. “I am?”

“I need to kiss Ben again,” Devi says, feeling suddenly more determined and confident, “that way I can figure out what I’m really feeling!”

Before Eleanor can give a response, Devi’s running out of her room. (Though she’s pretty sure she hears Eleanor yell, “Wait, I was kidding! Devi? DEVI!”)

Whatever she’s saying though, Devi doesn’t care, she has a single minded focus, she needs to get to Ben’s. 

Once she’s out on the street—the sky above her bleeding from the purple pink hues of sunset to the blackness of night—Devi slows her pace from a run to a speed walk in the direction of Ben’s house. 

There’s the good chance her feelings—the fact that she’s in love with him at least—are born out of her attachment to him as a friend. She knows she loves Ben, he’s her best friend, of course she loves him, but loving him in _that_ way is something else entirely. Who knows if she’s—she’s really _in_ love with him? She could just be blowing their friendship out of proportion, making the kiss much better than it actually was. 

She knows she’s not thinking this through, being irrational even, but that doesn’t matter. None of it matters, she just needs to kiss him. Because if Malibu had been completely stirred by hormones and emotions, kissing him now should make her feel absolutely nothing. 

(Even as she walks to his house, she knows that—that’s not the case. Since when has Ben made her feel nothing?)

Part of her hopes she feels nothing for him, because—because then they can brush this off as another irrational Devi decision and bounce back to their normal friendship, side by side, smirking at one another. She hopes for that, because losing Ben—especially so soon after her father—that would destroy her from the inside out. She might not know how she feels about him in—in _that_ way, but she knows he is her best friend. 

She knows he is her best friend in the same way she knows the laws of planetary motion: that every planet orbits the sun in an ellipse, that there is an imaginary line, connecting the two, that sweeps out in equal areas at equal time, and that the period of the planet—the time it takes to orbit the sun—is integrally related to its distance from the sun. If she is the planet, he is the sun, their orbits always being drawn back to one another. It’s ironic, in fact, that she finds comfort in astronomical laws, that she goes there to seek truth. She has always found solace in three things: her father, Ben, and the stars. 

It’s a simple, immutable fact of the universe, that Ben is her best friend. 

And then some other part of her—some small, naive part—hopes against all hope he might feel the same way, that he might reach out and set her alight like she knows he would.

Devi feels some of the nausea in her stomach settle when she sees Ben's house, darting around to the back. She immediately spots him in the backyard, standing by his pool, face tipped up towards the star-studded sky. The scene is heart-achingly familiar, nostalgia settling in her gut. Here, under the canopy of the night, they have spent hours together, pointing out the constellations, bantering about astronomy, and enjoying their time with each other. Under the stars has become her and Ben’s special place, somehow both out in the open and tucked away from everything else. 

Or maybe, the feeling in her gut isn’t the memories that are rushing back at all, maybe it’s just _Ben_.

(There are few things in life as constant as the stars and Ben is one of them.)

“Ben,” she says, stepping forward timidly.

His eyes are on her immediately, his expression one of relief. “Devi,” he breathes. His joy to see her, the way his eyes light up, pushes her forward, making her more confident with what she’s about to do.

She takes a few steps towards him, cups his face in her hands, not even registering the brief alarm that flickers across his face, before she kisses him.

It’s quick, brief, feather-light and with the adrenaline roaring through her veins, Devi breaks the kiss almost as impulsively as she initiated it.

She watches something dangerously close to desire flash through Ben’s eyes before he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her close and—oh he’s kissing her again.

His mouth is hot and determined against hers, and somehow he kisses her with even more certainty than he did in Malibu. The hand not wrapped around her waist slides up to cup her jaw, his fingers digging into her hair as the base of his thumb presses against her pulse point, and she wonders if he can feel how fast her heart is pounding, rapid-fire against her skin. 

Devi reciprocrates instantly, kissing him back just as firmly, as her hands move from cupping his cheeks to card through his hair. One slides down his neck and tugs him closer by the collar of his shirt and she parts her lips to deepen the kiss. She feels as though she’s melting into him, as if everything else in the world is irrelevant and unimportant. The only thing that is truly real to her is Ben. 

Kissing Ben is like looking up into the star-studded sky, an enormity of scope stretching out in front of her. It’s as though the universe that surrounds her is infinitely expanding—creating endless freedom and possibility—at the whim of the undetectable force of dark energy. It makes her feel as though the cosmological force of antigravity is acting on her in the most literal sense. She feels like she’s floating, flying, soaring. It’s almost celestial.

Ten years of friendship have made her an expert on him, and he an expert on her, so when he sweeps his tongue into her mouth and tangles it with hers she can’t help but sigh, and try to pull him even closer. 

After—Devi really doesn’t know how long, trying to keep track of the time is impossible when his lips are on hers—a while, she pulls away from Ben.

His eyes are dark, midnight blue, and his mouth is slightly parted, arms remaining around her waist.

She kind of wants to kiss him again.

And that’s when she realizes that she feels the same as she did in Malibu right after she kissed him, even more intensely perhaps. There’s no way to chalk this off as a chemical reaction of hormones mixed adrenaline all combined with an insane emotional high.

As she looks into Ben’s blue, blue, impossibly blue eyes, she can only formulate one thought over and over again.

She’s in love with him. 

* * *

The stars are the only thing constant in his life, right now. 

(Devi. Devi and the stars have always been what he has leaned on.) 

But he doesn’t have Devi, right now. All he has are the stars. 

Ben steps out of his house as the sun is setting, the sky turning pink and purple. He’s finished all his work, despite being half occupied with Devi, and looking up into the sky always calms him.

The stars are not out yet, but just tipping his face up to the sky is comforting, is soothing. 

It still fills his mind with thoughts of Devi, but instead of the one uncertain moment of their friendship, it fills him with thoughts of all the happy ones. 

Summer ice cream and awkward kisses, and infinitely expanding space. Ben sighs, stuffing his hands in his pockets and letting the cool breeze brush his face, closing his eyes in contentment. He has always come here, to the one place where he knows he belongs. 

The only thing missing is her. 

He stands there for a few minutes, keeping his eyes closed, enjoying the warm California air, drinking every moment in. 

“Ben,” he hears, from behind him. 

Ben opens his eyes and turns, instantly, to see Devi, looking impossibly beautiful, stepping towards him. Behind her, he can see the sky, notices the stars have started to appear. 

(Just seeing her does wonders for him, is the balm to his aching, aching soul. Her and him, under the stars, is the only place he ever wants to be, for the rest of his life.) 

“Devi,” he breathes. His hands ache to hold her, to touch her, but he forces himself not to move. Lets her come to him. 

Devi steps forward without another word, reaching her hands up to his face, and for—for a split second Ben thinks she might slap him—before she leans in and kisses him. 

Ben’s so shocked he can’t do anything but freeze against her, hands still in his pockets, as her lips, so, so warm, press against his own. His heart roars in his chest, the weight and power of a thousand lions behind it. 

Before he can move an inch, Devi pulls back from him, her eyes flickering over his face. 

Well, if she’s going to kiss him, he’s certainly not going to waste this chance. 

Ben pulls his hands out of his pockets and wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him before he leans in and kisses her, firmly, kisses her like he’s been dying to for the past few years. His hand cups her jaw, and against his thumb he can feel the beat of her heart, the rapid fire thrumming of her pulse. 

Devi pulls him closer, impossibly, impossibly close, kissing him back just as hard. She can’t seem to stop either, and when she sighs into his mouth it is the best feeling in the world. She still tastes like cherry chapstick, but this time, with a bittersweet edge, like the tang of pink lemonade, and for some reason, the thought almost makes him smile. 

She parts her lips under his mouth and suddenly, his tongue is in her mouth, and this is _so_ much better than that one, awkward little kiss they shared when they were 13. So much better than spin the bottle in freshman year. This is the only thing he ever wants to do for the rest of his life, stand here and hold her in his arms and kiss her, memorizing the sound of her soft sighs and the way she seems to melt into him. 

After what feels like far too short a time—he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of kissing her, though—Devi pulls away, staring at him. 

Ben swallows roughly, running his tongue over the inside of his lip, staring at hers. 

They look slightly swollen and are pink, from him. 

Oh, holy _shit,_ he kissed his best friend. Like, a real kiss. Basically made out with her, really. 

He can’t let go of her, can only stand here and hold her. 

Does—does this mean she feels something for him? Does this mean they’re going to be something now, something more than friends? 

(Even as he thinks this, he knows, at the end of the day, Devi can never _really_ be anything more than his best friend. Whether or not she is the love of his life, she will always, first and foremost, be Devi, his best friend. That is the most important thing she is to him.) 

There’s always the chance, though, that she might not want anything from him. That she just kissed him on a whim. That she might not feel anything for him. But he hopes, he hopes against all hope, that she does feel the same way, that there is something there. 

Because he is in love with her. 

Ben feels his heart pound against the inside of his ribcage, feels it thump out her name. _Devi, Devi, Devi._

He’s in love with her. He knows this like he knows there are stars in the sky. Devi has held his heart since they were five years old. He will never, ever be able to take it back, and he doesn’t want it back from her. It’s hers to keep, forever. 

Looking right into her eyes, it’s the only thing he can think of, how much he loves her. 

He breathes out, resisting the urge to run his hand down the side of her face. She’s so, so beautiful, the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, and all he wants to do is kiss her again, pull her closer and kiss her a—

“—love you.” 

Ben blinks. Once. Twice. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice slightly hoarse. “Wh—what did you say?” 

Devi frowns then. “Wait, were you not listening?” 

He grins sheepishly. “No?” 

She cups his face in her hands, looking at him with more softness in her eyes than he has ever seen. “I’m in love with you, Ben. I love the way you smile and the way you make me laugh, I love the way _you_ laugh. You’re the best person I know, the one person who’s always been there for me. You got me to Malibu and you gave me your desserts and mittens and you held me when I couldn’t fall asleep. I love the way you make me feel, and I love that you always know just what I need.” 

She swallows a bit roughly, looking right at him, and his heart is pounding in his chest. It is like her words have rendered him immobile, completely paralyzed. 

“And—and I know I’m not the best friend you deserve. I know I don’t deserve someone like you, but I want to try. I love you, so much.” She leans forward, presses her forehead against his, lets her eyes flutter shut. “I love that you’re so kind and that you care. I even love that you’re a dick sometimes, because I love everything about you. I love that you challenge me like no one else. But really, mostly, I love you because you’re my best friend in the whole world.” 

He just stares at her, completely shocked. He can’t even breathe, can’t even function now. 

“Ben?” she says, her voice slightly uncertain, shaking. “Please? Say something, Ben.” 

He needs to say something, but—but what?

“You—you’re in love with me?” 

She nods. “I am.” 

The tension melts out of his shoulders. He breathes, leans forward and kisses her again, soft and slow. 

When he pulls back, Ben runs his thumb over her lip. “I’m so, so in love with you, Devi.” 

Her lips curl up into a smile. “Really?” 

He nods. “You’re the only person I’ve ever loved. The only person I ever _will_ love. I love everything about you, even your temper.” Seeing the playful glint in her eyes, he rushes to correct himself. “Especially your temper. You’re the love of my life. You’re it.” 

“I’m it,” she affirms. 

He wraps both his arms around her waist. “You’re it.” 

She laughs then, throwing her head back, and it’s the most beautiful sound in the world. “I love you,” she repeats, giddy, “but god, you’re dumb.” 

His mouth drops open. “Excuse me!” 

“Well, you missed the first time I did that whole speech, you idiot! I just gave you the encore performance!” 

“You stormed into my backyard—technically trespassing, might I add—and grabbed me and kissed me!” 

“Trespassing? I was telling you something life changing!” she argues. “And don’t pretend I don’t spend like, 55% of my free time here, Gross.” 

“Well, how _was_ I supposed to respond? You took me by surprise. I was in shock!” 

“Shock?” She smirks. “Guess I’ve got great kissing skills. I mean, if you were rendered completely speechless and temporarily lost the ability to comprehend audio, I’m definitely the better kisser of the—” 

He tugs her closer and kisses her, covering her mouth with his, and she stops speaking instantly, whimpering softly against his mouth as her hands go to run themselves through his hair, pulling him closer. 

His hand presses against her shoulder blades, keeping her upright as her back curves, arching into him, and he kisses her like he’s drowning and she’s oxygen. 

(She is his oxygen, his fire, his energy. His best friend.)

Ben’s careful, though, not to get too into it, and he waits a few more moments before pulling away unexpectedly. 

Devi blinks at him, her eyes slightly glazed. “Wh—what?” she breathes. 

He smirks. “Cat got your tongue, David?” 

“Fuck,” she sighs. “You’re pretty good at that.” 

Warmth rises to his cheeks, but he smiles smugly at her anyways. “You think?” 

Devi’s gaze drops to his mouth. “Oh my god,” she murmurs, hand reaching up to run her thumb over his lip, lingering at the corner of his mouth. “We could have been doing this for years.” 

“Hmm,” Ben hums. He feels as though a thousand butterflies have moved from his stomach to his heart, sunlit joy radiating throughout him. “We can make up for lost time.” 

Devi raises an eyebrow. “You think?” 

Ben wraps his arms around her securely. “Between the two of us, Devi? Easily.” 

She kisses him then, wrapping her arms around his neck, and laughing against his mouth when he lifts her up off her feet, underneath the cover of a billion stars. 

* * *

“You’re sure you want to do this?”

Devi glances over at Ben finding his expression to be completely earnest. 

She snorts and rolls her eyes. “You’re acting like we’re making a life changing decision here, Gross.”

Ben reaches for her hand, linking her fingers with his. “Well, we kind of are. Finally telling our other two best friends we’re dating is kind of a big deal, is it not?”

Devi squeezes his hand and takes a deep breath. “I’m sure.”

Ben smiles at her, that soft, sweet smile she knows he reserves for her, only she loves it even more now that she knows what it feels like pressed against her own.

She’s not sure who leans in first, but she meets him in the middle for a quick kiss, more of a peck, really. 

(Devi will never get tired of the feeling of Ben's lips pressed against hers. She loves every type of kiss they share: chaste kisses, perfect for public, passionate kisses, for them only, lingering kisses when they say goodbye, languid kisses, when they have all the time in the world. Every single kiss she shares with Ben is her favorite. Every _moment_ she shares with Ben is her favorite.)

He gives her hand one last squeeze, before he opens the door of his dad’s Porsche and steps out into the school parking lot. He walks around the car and opens Devi’s door for her.

“You don’t have to do that,” Devi says, stepping out of the car and shutting the door behind her.

Ben smirks. “Just trying to be chivalrous.”

Devi tilts her head. “Hmm,” she hums. “I think the word you’re looking for is controlling.”

Ben laughs, his eyes glinting. “No, I was thinking something more along the lines of magnanimous, gallant, or heroic.”

“I still think menacing and domineering are more appropriate,” Devi teases as she reaches again to take his hand.

Usually, they’re careful to not engage in too many displays of affection around others, but with the decision to finally tell Fabiola and Eleanor about their relationship, those rules fly out the window.

Ben quickly interlaces their fingers and they approach the school, joined hands swinging freely between them.

They step into the school, hands still linked, and immediately approach Eleanor and Fabiola who are gathering their books from their lockers.

“Hey, El, Fab,” Ben says to catch their attention.

Eleanor and Fabiola turn around to face them and Devi smiles as she watches Eleanor’s eyes dart down to her and Ben’s joined hands.

“We have something we want to tell you,” Devi says, feeling her smile widen.

She turns to Ben and gives him an encouraging nod.

Ben sucks in a deep breath. “We’re dating.”

Devi watches Fabiola glance at Eleanor and give a knowing smirk. “Pay up, El.”

Eleanor pouts. “Why?”

Devi’s eyes bug and she feels Ben’s grip tighten on her hand.

Fabiola smiles smugly. “You bet they wouldn’t last longer than a month before telling us.”

Eleanor grumbles and pulls a few bills out of her pocket, passing them to Fabiola. Fabiola happily takes them and counts them out, clearly relishing the disgruntled look on Eleanor’s face. 

“Wait, what?” Devi finally asks.

Fabiola turns back to face them, tucking the money Eleanor just handed her into the pocket of her overalls. “We already know.”

“You two are the opposite of subtle,” Eleanor adds. “It’s embarrassing, actually, given that I’m supposed to be the dramatic one of our quartet.” She clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “Lately, you two have been stealing all of my thunder.”

Ben’s mouth drops agape. “Your thunder—w—what?”

Devi releases Ben’s hand so she can cross her arms over her chest. “What are you two talking about? We’ve been perfectly subtle.”

“Devi,” Fabiola admonishes. “We literally watched you pull Ben into an empty classroom last week. I was about ten seconds away from marching over there and confronting you two myself.”

Eleanor wrinkles her nose. “You two are disgusting. And that’s coming from me.”

“What are you talking about?” Devi snaps. “We don’t engage in any PDA?”

Eleanor quirks an eyebrow. “Then why are you two always sneaking off to go make out? Case in point, what Fabiola witnessed last week.”

Devi’s mouth drops open and she finds herself unable to dignify that with a response.

Ben smirks. “Technically, PDA stands for public displays of affection, and something can only be public if there are witnesses. So therefore, we don’t engage in a lot of PDA.”

Fabiola rolls her eyes. “Technically, you both make me want to engage in bleaching my eyeballs,” she mutters under her breath.

Devi raises her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay,” she says, “maybe we haven’t been strong on the subtlety front, but neither have either of you.”

Eleanor and Fabiola glance at her slightly appalled. “Excuse me?” Eleanor asks, pressing her hand to her chest. So much for stealing her thunder. 

“Eleanor,” Devi smirks, “didn’t you and Paxton go to the mall the other day?”

She notices Ben toss her a confused glance, but sends him back a look that means, _just follow my lead._

Pink blush blooms high in Eleanor’s cheeks. “We’re talking about you two right now! Besides, you and Ben literally made out against my locker!”

Now it’s Devi’s turn to blush, but she’s relieved to find that Ben is blushing just as much. “You guys saw that?” he asks, his voice coming out slightly strangled.

(Again. As established, she and Ben are the _opposite_ of subtle. Looking back on it, Devi kinda agrees with Eleanor.)

Devi ignores Eleanor’s comment and instead turns to Fabiola. “What about you and Eve, Fab? Have you texted her since you two went out for lunch this weekend?”

Fabiola just leans back against her locker, smirking coolly. “Lesbians lock shit down, Devi. We’re kind of like sociopaths, in that way.” She tilts her head and scans Devi. “Unlike you and Ben. God, that was painful to watch.” 

Ben shoots her an offended look, one that she can’t help but feel in her gut. “Painful? To watch?” 

Eleanor waves her hand. “Everyone could see it but you two since like, eighth grade. You kissed each other, for goodness sake. Twice! We were all just waiting for it to happen.” 

Devi raises an eyebrow. “Fine, El. How long am I gonna have to wait until you and Paxton get your shit together?” 

The blush on Eleanor’s cheeks turns from pink to red. “We’re not doing anything together.” 

Ben smirks, walking over to his locker and putting in his combination. “Then why does he drive you home after school every day?” 

“Be—because we live near each other!” Eleanor splutters. “That’s it!” 

Devi laughs. “You live in opposite directions, El.” 

Eleanor narrows her eyes at Devi. “This isn’t about me! This is about you and Ben dancing around each other for like, ten fucking years. Seriously, took you guys long enough.” 

Ben shoots her a soft smile as she walks over to him, reaching over to lace their fingers together once more. “I do agree with that.” 

“Oh, god,” Eleanor groans. “I swear to god, if you two start third-wheeling Fab and I, we _will_ ditch you and go hang out with Jonah.” 

Devi laughs. “I promise, El, no third-wheeling. In fact—” she turns to Fabiola, “—do you guys wanna get smoothies after school?” 

“Sounds good,” Fabiola agrees, shutting her locker door. 

“I can drive you home,” Ben offers. 

Devi laughs, reaching over to pat his cheek. “Sorry, Gross, but you’re not invited.” 

Ben’s mouth drops open in shock. “You’re—you guys aren't inviting me? But I’m your best friend! And your boyfriend!” he says, turning to Devi. 

(Hearing that makes her heart do a happy little dance in her chest, and god, she can’t believe Ben’s turned her into _that_ kind of girl. She wants to hate him for it, but she can’t.)

“And, a guy,” Eleanor quips. “Girls’ afternoon, right?” 

Devi nods. “I need a little bit of a break from you, Gross. Don’t be offended.” 

“How—how am I not supposed to be offended at that?” 

“Get over it,” she smirks. “You’re dating me now.” 

Ben offers her a smitten smile, eyes filled to the brim with affection. “Yeah,” he agrees, bringing their interlaced hands up to his mouth to press a kiss to her knuckles before swinging them playfully through the air. “Yeah, I am.”

Devi can’t help but smile back and leans in to press a quick kiss to his lips. “I love you,” she says, once she pulls back.

Ben hums. “I love you more.” His eyes glint, signalling that he’s challenging her.

Devi smirks. “Well, I love you the most.”

“Well, I love you the most time infinit—” 

“Guys,” Fabiola interrupts them, waving her hands. “It’s not a competition.”

Eleanor snorts, rolling her eyes. “It’s Devi and Ben, what were you expecting, Fab?”

Fabiola shrugs her shoulders. “Fair enough.”

Devi turns her attention back to Ben and she kisses him again, letting it linger this time, before pulling back, leaving her hand resting on his cheek.

“Ugh, gross,” Eleanor says, screwing up her nose.

“Hey, that’s my last name, don’t wear it out,” Ben retorts.

Devi groans and smacks Ben in the chest with the back of her palm. “You’re such a dork.” She laughs. “Why am I dating you again?”

He smirks and cocks his head. “I could go into the long list of reasons you gave me a couple weeks ago when you dramatically confessed your love for me, if you want.”

Devi scowls when she watches Eleanor and Fabiola glance at Ben with intrigue. 

“Nope,” Devi says, shaking her head. “Those were for your ears only, Gross.”

Ben taps his chin playfully. “From what I remember though, it’s because I’m your best friend.”

Devi smiles at him, her best friend—turned boyfriend—who has always been, and always will be the love of her life. “Yeah, you are.” 

**Author's Note:**

> your comments and kudos make us happier than devi and ben competing with one another! come talk to us about the show!  
> [leila](https://montygreen.tumblr.com)  
> [bhargavi](https://parkersedith.tumblr.com)


End file.
